The plucking of strings reverberated through the room.1

Zhao Changhe sat there in earnest, playing the guqin.0

The maid stood nervously by the side, looking like she was ready to pounce at any time to save her precious guqin. If this bear shows even a hint of violence, I’ll kick him through the wall and I won’t let him three zhang from the guqin ever again.1

However, it was very strange. Even though he had clumsily broken a string the last time he played, and he had not practiced playing the guqin these past few days, his posture now was inexplicably gentler and more relaxed. His current movements were devoid of the former stiffness that he had.1

So, when he touched the strings, although his movements did still look relatively rigid, he could actually play it.0

Back then, the string had broken not because it was too tight, but because he was too tense. How could a martial artist who could even use a broad saber to shave his beard not be able to control his strength and end up breaking a string?0

In comparison to back then, he was much calmer and relaxed.0

The only issue now was that he had never learned any songs. He was simply following the piece that Tang...0