"Jiangnan Yue, the clear night fills the west tower."
"When the clouds part, the ice reflects the mirror, in the depths of the waves, the jade sinks the hook."
"When will the roundness and the lack cease..."
The night breeze rustles gently, and in the backyard of a residence in Pingting County, gentle zither sounds and melodious singing emanate from the attic, making one feel as if they've been transported to a moonlit night in Jiangnan.
On the attic, dim yellow light shines through the windows, casting the silhouette of a graceful figure.
On the couch by the window, Xia Zhiqing kneels on a long table, her ten slender fingers like bamboo shoots plucking the strings of a zither, her red lips opening slightly as she sings softly.
"Tap tap tap..."
A series of hurried footsteps interrupted the music.
After Xia Zhining entered the attic, she quickly ran up the stairs to the inner room on the second floor.
Beside the long table was a low table.
