Qinghuan draws out a long, lingering overtone, the sound slowly fading in the wooden cabin. She closes her eyes, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Hear that? ... Don't speak. Wait for it to fade on its own, and you'll know what true silence feels like." The music room is closed, and everyone else has gone home. But you're still here, so I'll play one more for you. Today, I'll only play what you pick. What do you want to hear? If you can't decide, it's fine—I'll choose for you.