Wang Anfeng softly said: "Does your daughter like the sound of the zither?"
The old man shook his head, his fingers pressed on the strings, and said plainly: "She says playing the zither and composing poetry is just self-amusement, claiming the so-called scholar's elegance is nothing to her; yet she disdains practicing martial arts, saying even the highest martial arts are just individual bravery, useless to the world."
"She says despite being a woman, she wants to possess talents that can weigh the world."
The old man's voice paused, suddenly laughed, and sighed helplessly:
"It's false, all falsehoods, just because she's lazy by nature."
"She doesn't like it, how could she like it? When she knows she has to practice the zither, she thinks of ways to escape."
