After I died, the scumbag prince cried down the city wall

Chapter 150 Try your best

Cui Rong bit her lower lip lightly, her eyes flashing with determination: "I know."

Then, she took out a beautifully embroidered medicine bag from her wide sleeves and gently placed it in Su Yue's palm: "Please help me go out and buy some medicinal herbs, and go to Penglai Inn by the way and give this to Lin Han."

"Okay, girl."

Su Yue took the order and left.

Cui Rongrong stood up and walked towards Songhe Garden.

Passing through the flower-filled garden, she deliberately took a detour and passed through a path hidden among the rockery. This path seemed like a secret passage to escape reality, and finally led her into the tranquil Pine and Crane Garden.

With every step forward, her mind was like fallen leaves blown by the autumn wind, drifting unsteadily. She repeatedly considered how to take Ajin away from the Wen Mansion safely and find him a quiet haven, but she never had an answer.

In this world full of prying eyes and calculations, even outside the high walls, she could hardly find a ray of light of help.

Immersed in deep thoughts, Songhe Garden came into view unknowingly.

"Cousin, please come in. The master is waiting for you in the study room."

The waiter's invitation was gentle but polite.

Cui Rong nodded slightly in greeting and walked into the courtyard.

Just as she walked in, Wen Yinyang came out of the side room holding an ancient guqin in his arms. He placed the guqin on the table. Upon seeing her coming, the corners of his mouth turned up with a gentle smile: "Let's practice guqin first today."

Cui Rong was stunned. She didn't expect he was serious.

She wanted to refuse: "I thought about it, maybe I don't have the talent to play the piano..."

Wen Yinyang's eyes were sharp, and his words were firm and unyielding: "How do you know it won't work if you haven't tried it? Sit down."

Cui Rongrong had no choice but to sit down as she was told.

Wen Yinyang stood behind her, bent down, and gently stroked the strings with his right hand. His voice was low and magnetic, and he whispered in her ear: "Start with the basic fingerings: wipe, pick, hook, pick, split, support, hit, and pick."

His slender fingers jumped and flew on the strings. Even if he plucked them casually, the pleasant sound of the piano flowed out like a clear spring, making people intoxicated.

Cui Rongrong was absent-minded, or perhaps because he was too close to her, her ears were inexplicably tinged with a warm blush.

"Try it."

"Ok?"

She was stunned and didn't react for a moment.

He turned his head, and his eyes seemed to penetrate the space and lock on her, making her feel as if there were only two of them left in the whole world.

Seeing her confused face, he patiently demonstrated again: "This is rubbing."

Cui Rong suddenly came to her senses and mustered up the courage to touch the strings of the zither, but unexpectedly, a sharp and piercing sound came from where her fingertips touched, breaking the original tranquility.

Her cheeks flushed instantly, and she felt ashamed, as if she had desecrated a precious guqin. She turned to look at him, with anxiety flashing in her eyes: "What's next?"

He stared at her increasingly red cheeks, which slowly extended to her small earlobes, and the meaning in his eyes became deeper. His fingers gently plucked the strings, "This is a pick."

Cui Rongrong tried again, but the guqin only responded with a sharper whistle.

She swallowed awkwardly, trying to maintain her composure.

"The force is wrong, it should be like this."

He demonstrated again and saw that her ears became even redder, like ripe apples, tempting to be picked.

She gritted her teeth and tried again, and this time, the guqin seemed to emit a sad hum.

Annoyance was quietly growing in her heart, and she said childishly, "I don't want to learn anymore. My hands hurt."

Unexpectedly, he did not blame me, but came closer, the depth in his eyes became stronger: "Forget it then."

At this moment, Cui Rongrong woke up as if from a dream, and felt the warmth from his body. Her clear eyes were gradually filled with a strange feeling. It was Wen Yinyang who she was familiar with but also a little strange when they whispered at night.

She trembled all over and forced a smile: "I was just joking. I want to continue studying."

However, Wen Yinyang had already leaned over, ready to kiss, and whispered, "Let's talk about it another day."

Cui Rongrong firmly pressed against his chest, her tone unquestionable: "Since we agreed to learn the piano today, you don't think I'm stupid now, but when you get tired of my clumsiness and incompetence in the future, what should I do?"

He glanced at her sideways, and there was an unprecedented passion and desire in her eyes, which was particularly eye-catching.

He took a deep breath, his voice full of unquestionable determination: "Okay."

He straightened his body, reached out for the herbal tea on the table and drank it all in one gulp. The liquid that could temporarily cool the restlessness in his heart flowed down his throat, but it could not completely extinguish the burning sensation in his heart.

"When you study, you should concentrate on it and stop talking about sore hands and feet."

His face became stern, more severe than that of the most staid old scholar, making people dare not neglect him.

Cui Rong nodded obediently, her movements as gentle as the morning breeze blowing across the lake, her mind as clear as a mirror - she knew very well that although the road to learning the piano was hard, the pain was only limited to her fingers, and for those who had never set foot in this art palace, their body and mind would be exhausted due to their ignorance as outsiders.

How could she not understand the importance of choice and persistence?

"Do it again, the same fingering technique as before."

His voice was gentle yet carried an irresistible force, like willow branches swaying gently in spring; although soft, it left an unignorable mark in the air.

Cui Rongrong tried as she was told, her slender fingers dancing across the strings, but the sound was still as clumsy, raw and harsh as that of a beginner, as if it was a rough, unpolished wood sawing out sharp sounds in the silent air.

She couldn't help but look at him, her eyes innocent and pure, like a winter plum covered in the first snow, untainted by dust.

She wondered in her heart whether he would give up in the next second because of his impatience, and then she would be able to escape from this bitter practice as easily as a rabbit escaping from a hunter's trap.

But his reaction was beyond her expectations.

He gently grasped her fingers, his warm and powerful hands grasping her tender hands, and plucked the strings again. His deep and firm voice penetrated the air and went straight into her heart: "That's it, the strength should be moderate, neither too strong nor too weak."

Every word reveals persistence and encouragement that cannot be ignored.

She glanced at him in surprise, her eyes full of confusion and inquiry. Ripples appeared in her heart, wondering where his sudden and indescribable patience came from.

Could it be that some kind of magic hidden in the sound of the piano touched his heartstrings?

"Why are you staring at me?"

He suddenly looked up, his eyes as sharp as torches, his deep eyes seemed to be able to see through people's hearts. He looked directly into her eyes, as if he wanted to see through all her thoughts.

Cui Rongrong quickly avoided the scorching gaze, her cheeks flushed lightly, and she focused her attention on the strings again. This time, every movement she made was more focused, and she poured her whole heart into every stroke.