An Ran and An Lin turned around and saw those people, who had just been sitting there stiffly like dummies, suddenly move. Their motions were still mechanical as they clapped, palms smacking together, cheering and shouting in a rigid way.
Jolted back to themselves by the crowd's strange behavior, An Ran and An Lin were abruptly pulled out of the spell of watching the opera. By then, the woman singing the qingyi role had already glided over to stand before the three of them.
Up close, even though this qingyi's face was painted in heavy, gaudy makeup, it still couldn't hide her exquisitely beautiful features—she was an absolute Beauty.
She flicked her flowing sleeves lightly and performed a graceful bow, the formal salute commonly used by a qingyi on stage, to Feng Shuangshuang and the two, An Lin and An Ran. Her voice clear and lilting, she said, "Honored guests, how was my performance?"
