'Some people have self-harming tendencies when they're under immense stress, but would they really be calm enough to think about where to inflict the wound?'
'To think he'd target a place like that... I can't imagine what Director Song was thinking!'
After all, Xia Zhaoyun was just too beautiful...
With the Golden Microphone competition just around the corner, Xia Zhaoyun had already written her script. She could even recite it fluently and with great emotion, but it was still missing something to meet her own high standards.
She borrowed a recorder from He Qingran, bought two blank cassette tapes, and headed to the troupe's piano room to work on the background music.
Xia Zhaoyun's time as a ghost hadn't been long, but it hadn't been short either. She had witnessed the next sixty years of Xiahua Country's rapid economic development, so she was well aware that there was much that could be done in the realm of audio.
