131: Do you still remember how she died?_3

"He's in the zither room, I'll take you there," Madam Situ turned and led the way.

Mu Qingli followed her steps.

The zither room was also a standalone loft. As they approached the building, a melodious zither tune could be heard.

It sounded like pearls dropping onto a jade plate, eloquent and continuous.

Upon opening the door, they saw a man sitting by the window playing the zither. His unceasing fingers plucked at the ancient strings, his pale digits blending with the wooden body of the instrument to form a beautiful scene.

He was slightly closing his eyes, immersed in the melody, blending in with a single pink peach blossom that stretched in from outside the window, so oblivious to the presence of newcomers.

Beauty reflected between man and peach blossoms must be just like this.

Mu Qingli realized for the first time that a man could be so beautiful, and what was rarest of all, his beauty bore not a trace of effeminacy—truly a rarity.

Madam Situ cleared her throat softly.