Touch the strings with your hands, a strand of hair slides down your shoulders, and your fingertips slide down. A song comes only because of the melody in the sky. It sounds like a butterfly flapping its wings and flying to the clear sky.

Her slender white fingers fiddled with seven strings, and a crisp and smooth piano sound popped up, as if Mimi were running in water, with a touch of sadness. The breeze blew, and the air was filled with the fragrance of osmanthus. In an instant, the white skirt fluttered. The sound of the piano is stirring, echoing Song Tao for a long time. When the hand fell, whose heartstrings did Shang Xian shake? Her movements slowly slowed down, and the piano became Jing Ya again, tactfully, with a touch of sadness, just like the fragrance of osmanthus.