The flute sound was so clear and bright, yet so melodically soft and lingering.
In her life, she had heard such a sound only in one place.
Chu Yu's eyes widened, almost in disbelief.
The flute sound meandered, twisting and turning, so prolonged.
She took a step forward, but then, as if fearing something, she retracted her foot, her expression becoming anxious and uncertain.
Yet the flute sound continued incessantly, note by note, almost tearing her heart apart.
Her whole body seemed to be clamoring; finally, Chu Yu rushed toward the door, her mind a blank, every inch of her body eager, rationality long cast aside, her soul boiling within.
With a thud, she pushed open the ajar black lacquered wooden door and burst into the layered green bamboo forest, where the flute sound abruptly ceased.
It was as if the film had frozen, as though time had never passed, and she had just traveled through time, naively and shallowly bursting into the world of the young man in white.
