"Flute?"
Shang Yanting had never heard of it before.
Following her instructions, he hollowed out the bamboo and made ten holes on it.
He then tried and played it repeatedly.
The perfectionist Little Raccoon listened to the tone produced by each hole countless times, wearing out Shang Yanting's patience.
"Host, do you think the last note is still a bit off?"
"Still off?"
Shang Yanting's lips were on the verge of breaking, expressionless, as he rubbed the flute in his palm like he was going to spank it.
"Actually... a little flaw is what makes it perfect."
Jia Xitong perceptively commented.
Taking the flute, she thought it looked plain, "Host, can you help me wrap it up?"
As the saying goes, people are judged by their appearance, and gods by their ornate temples.
Even the simplest thing looks classy with the right packaging.
"I want a bow."
She said to this once pampered young master.
Shang Yanting didn't move.
Is he someone to be ordered around?
