“My Master’s zither? It wouldn’t happen to be the one carved with flowers… would it?”
Other people might not have understood what Wen Jiayin meant by that vague description, but True Lord Dizhu, who had made both zithers, understood instantly.
“That’s right. Where this one has butterflies, your Master’s zither has ice lotuses. Every material came from the same source; they’re like twins.”
Maybe Master had given the zither away. Wen Jiayin’s mind was in turmoil, and she could only cling to that self-deceiving explanation to calm herself.
But Dizhu’s next words shattered even that...
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