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Fu Min's blushing and pale face caused by her straightforward provocation, she bit her lip for a long while without meowing.
"Good song, good piano, good momentum."
A few pats were heard outside the pavilion, and then the person holding the flute came to clap his hands.
He looks young, in his mid-twenties, with a thin body, bookish in his bones, and he has the demeanor of "a gentleman is like jade, gentle and lustrous" when he smiles.
The spectators who were in a daze around only recovered their senses in an instant, and hurriedly raised their hands and saluted and called "Mr. Hua".
Wen Qian sized it up, finally let Fu Min go, and nodded stingily to him.
"Your flute is also good."
"Thanks to Miss Yang's praise, I dare not take it." He carefully considered his words, and finally smiled and bowed, "I'm waiting for you."
Thinking of the four words inscribed on the invitation, and the fact that the old owner had passed away long ago, this person must be the owner.
After the other party finished being polite, he straightened up and smiled all over his face, "The two girls are my guests, it's rare to have a good time enjoying flowers today, so why bother to hurt each other, the right is to sell flowers for some face, everyone give in , how?"
Originally, it was Fu Min who committed the great death himself. It looked like he was a peacemaker who came to smooth things over, but in fact he was helping Fu's family to rescue the siege without any trace.
Anyway, it was Yang Jin who was busy looking for trouble, Wen Qian vented his anger, and began to feel tired from the wine, rubbed his hands that were sore from playing, and looked good to talk, "Okay, let this 'superb piano' How about an apology to my eldest lady first?"
"I just¡¡"
As soon as Fu Min started, he was grabbed by his brother beside him.
Probably because he saw that the situation was not right, and that the little girl was not as skilled as others, and it was true that she was wronged, the man quickly bowed to Yang Ning to make amends.
She just nodded slightly and didn't say much.
Fu Min's eyes were red, and he was coaxed away by his elder brother.
Only then did Hua Rang withdraw her gaze, and bowed again to apologize, "Miss Fu is still young, so it's inevitable that she was out of proportion. Please don't take those words just now, Mr. Yang."
Yang Ning shook her head, and said magnanimously that it doesn't matter.
Wen Qian was just taking the cloak handed over by Yang Jin, but his eyes were still looking at him. He crossed his arms and asked after a while, "I see that your flute fingering is a little different. Did you learn the flute before, sir?"
Hua Rang turned sideways, smiled and shook his head: "That's not true. I lived in Yunnan for a long time. At first I learned to play the 'Ye Xiao', and then I changed to playing the Dong Xiao. The night flute pays attention to gentleness and long-lasting rhythm, so I haven't changed it yet. Habit."
Her eyes suddenly lit up, "I heard that the Bai Miao people have a flute named 'Liao', and the sound is softer and more beautiful than ordinary flute. I have never seen it before. I don't think that Mr. Hua can play it?"
He is very humble: "It's just a little understanding. If the girl is interested, I will arrange for someone to play and listen to the girl when I am free some other day."
"In that case, please trouble sir."
"you are welcome¡¡"
The two of them exchanged words, and quickly talked about famous songs from ancient to modern times, piano, chess, calligraphy and painting, as if they had met each other and hated being late.
Yang Jin absently stroked the lines on his waist card with his fingers.
For some reason, I suddenly remembered a sentence she asked Wen Qian when I first met her a long time ago.
¡ª¡ª"Is Master Yang good at temperament?"
He didn't take it to heart at that time, and he can't remember exactly how he answered it now.
In the small flower garden outside the stone pavilion, after being swept by the murderous sound, the conversations of the few people at this time were particularly peaceful.
Shi Baichuan seemed to be slowing down just now, took away the hand that was holding on to the tree trunk, forcibly tore off a large piece of bark, and ruthlessly grabbed it in the palm of his hand.
The old pagoda tree, which had withered badly in winter, was completely changed by him.
When Yang Ning turned her head, he turned around abruptly, jumped off the roof with several ups and downs, and rode away on his own horse Juechen.
Hua Rang is a very talkative and hospitable person. In order to express his apology, he insisted on setting up a table of food for the three of them to make amends.
However, Yang Jin wasn't interested, Yang Ning didn't make a statement, and Wen Qian, who was the only one who was willing to show her face, seemed a little tired because of drinking too much wine. The enthusiasm of the owner of Hua Zhuang was unappreciated, and he himself was not embarrassed, it was a one-man show. Also sang with relish.
It was already afternoon when the group returned to Yang's Mansion. In the courtyard, they only saw Mr. Yang directing Lang Xu to pick the fruit from the orange tree. The two little girls were squatting under the tree waiting to eat the ready-made fruit. The picture was very happy.
"I'm back." He was busy putting the citrus in the basket neatly, and caught his breath.bsp; Before he could figure out the ins and outs, he stopped in front of a shop while thinking about it.
The dim sum shop has the best business in the morning market. This musical instrument shop hidden in the crowd is not so eye-catching. Under the ostentatious guise, there are bamboo flutes, hole flutes, lyres and other objects. For some reason, Yang Jin stared at it for a long time.
He lingered in front of the door for a while, but finally went in by accident.
The store owner is a short man with a pot belly, well-dressed and dressed in silk and satin, as if he has achieved some success in this line of business, leading Yang Jin to introduce his treasures one by one.
He listened casually, just looked all the way, finally picked up a flute and weighed it in the palm of his hand.
"My lord, do you want to buy flutes?" The shopkeeper hurriedly took out several boxes and showed him, "Which one do you want to buy? I have high-quality purple bamboo and white bamboo hole flutes here. There are also several."
Yang Jin fiddled with his hands a few times with his head down, his expression seemed thoughtful, and he didn't say whether it was good or bad for a long time.
At this moment, a man suddenly abducted from the inside, his eyes fell on him, and his tone was very surprised: "Master Yang?"
Hearing this, Yang Jin raised his head, and Hua Rang was standing opposite, his eyes full of surprise, and then he showed his usual unobtrusive smile: "Why, you are also picking an instrument?"
The Hua family looked like a regular customer of this store, the boss treated him very politely, and asked the store clerk to cook a pot of good Xiu Ya for the two of them after a while.
Hua Rang sat opposite him, holding a purple bamboo flute and played a few notes briefly, the flute whimpered and was out of tune.
He smiled and put it down, "Masculinity is long, and blowing the flute is indeed unique. However, the tone and breath of the hole flute are not friendly to beginners. If Master Yang wants to learn, you might as well start with the flute."
As he spoke, he took one from the shelf not far away and handed it to him.
Yang Jin thanked him, took it and fiddled with it in his hand.
Hua Rang held the tea cup in his palm, looked at his serious expression, and said casually: "Actually, if you really want to talk about knowledge, that Yang Miss Wen is doing her part. Since Master Yang wants to buy a flute, why don't you let her follow?" Together?"
Yang Jin said: "I'm just getting excited, she doesn't know about it."
Seeing this, Hua Rang patted his forehead lightly, and smiled apologetically: "I'm sorry, or should I be called Mrs. Yang?"
He paused suddenly with his fingertips, then lowered his eyes and smiled, shook his head and said, "No." (Remember the website website: www.hlnovel.com