Qin Xiangnuan’s face instantly darkened. She’s older? How old is she supposed to be? He’s even six years older than her. What does it mean to say she’s older? Although it’s true, her age is quite up there by the facts, she just doesn’t want to admit it.
"Don’t be angry," Jian Zhiqing hurriedly explained, "I didn’t mean anything by it, I simply meant that music is something that needs to be cultivated from a young age. Children have simpler hearts, are pure, and think less, so they’re able to focus wholeheartedly. Can you do that? Would you be willing to stop selling scallion pancakes?"
"I can’t," Qin Xiangnuan shook her head. Not being able to sell scallion pancakes wouldn’t do, at least not for now.
However, it seems true that she is getting on in years. Learning an instrument is not easy, and she couldn’t even imagine pursuing that path. She’s someone who zones out easily. Listening to music for too long could either irritate her or put her to sleep. Therefore, she’ll never be a person of refinement in this lifetime.
Qin Xiangmei, it was said, even learned to play the piano in the end, but... she couldn’t do it.
She looked at her hands – hands that had many calluses from the rough work she did as a child. But they were better than in her previous life, at least they were delicate and smooth, soft and moist because she made pancakes. As a result, her nails were clipped exceptionally short, but her fingers were still slender and attractive, looking more like hands rather than tree bark.
Jian Zhiqing’s gaze rested on the stage, where unseen, his sparkling eyes hid many a subtle gleam.
The subsequent performances were quite ordinary, lacking distinctive features. Just the choral singing alone had five or six acts one after another, which inevitably became somewhat monotonous. Though some novelty was injected in the middle – like holding flowers or harmonizing – it might have been interesting if adults performed, but children’s voices were simply too tender. Singing songs that were meant to sound mature thus ended up feeling somewhat out of place.
Fortunately, Mr. Jiang wiped the sweat off his forehead. Their class’s choir performance was vetoed; otherwise, it would have been an embarrassing show.
After the choir, there was a rather nice act. Although a bit cliched, it had its charming points. However, having seen it on TV until one grew weary, and being a copycat act at that, the crowd rowed the big boat.
A song that had good ratings on TV was copied here, sung by a teacher. This teacher had a decent timbre, hardly differing from the original. However, the effect was so good that Qin Xiangnuan momentarily thought it wasn’t live singing at all, but lip-syncing, what is commonly known as fake singing. And a group of children also came out from behind, with two people shoulder to shoulder, chanting a slogan that at the time was almost universally known:
One chopstick, yay, easily snapped in two
Ten chopsticks, yo, firmly bundled tight
One hand alone, yay, cannot even clap
When thousands applaud, yo, the sound, oh the sound shakes the heavens, shakes the heavens
Because of the sound system, it was not bad and had some momentum. However, it was a shame that, having seen too much of it on TV, it lacked originality.
Next up was a sketch.
It has to be said, the auditorium’s sound system at the school was pretty subpar in this regard. If you were slightly away from the microphone, you couldn’t hear a thing. Not to mention the quality of the sketch itself, just the acoustics meant that the audience couldn’t make out what was being said on stage at all, akin to watching a silent film. Thus, this was probably not the worst act among those performed, and it’s likely that the teacher who planned this program didn’t anticipate such a poor outcome.