When the last trace of crimson disappeared from the sky, Qinghang was sitting in front of the blue and white mirror and looking at his thin eyebrows over and over again. Qinghang's cold eyes were reflected in the dim bronze mirror.
"Qinghang, it's your turn." A high-pitched cry made Qinghang raise his eyes.
Dragging a heavy costume and high boots, Qing Hang walked onto the stage.
With a clear voice, a graceful figure, and neat movements, the characters in the play are warm, sorrowful, and happy. Reflecting the cold moonlight, Qing Hang interprets the splendor of life in scenes.
That night, the fifteen-year-old Qinghang became famous in the capital...