Ten cents for a piece of music.
He tied up his long hair and plucked the strings with his four fingers.
He left after the song was over. No rush. Don't stop. Not happy. Not sad.
Neither life nor death, neither happiness nor anger.
He is a luthier on Wencheng South Street. One person, one piano, and a world.
My long Danmei, click me to read:
Intention: