Brother Binbin said it's terrible to listen to, only old people like it.
But just listening to the opening, Lin Shuyou unexpectedly found it quite good, full of emotion and flavor.
Art is something that stands before a thousand people, it's all about personal taste.
If he didn't know it was set up by Evil, Lin Shuyou would really want to move the small stool he's sitting on to the stage below for a good appreciation.
At this time, the old grandpas and grandmas who were eating suddenly sat there stiffly, their gazes muddled.
Lin Shuyou blinked, his pupils changed slightly, dispelling this influence.
He knew this was a ghost opera.
Folk opera generally has two forms: one is performed for humans to watch, and the other is for ghosts.
In his hometown, on certain fixed days, people would specifically be invited to the ancestral hall to perform opera at night, singing all night with no audience.
