The two hosts, with their rich experience at Li Zi Channel, quickly intervened to save the day, jokingly glossing over the situation.
Lin He, standing to the side, also spoke up in support of Ye Shaohua.
"I can play the guzheng too. Why don’t we all have a go?" he said, striding toward the guzheng as if he intended to play.
The host immediately made a begging gesture with his hands clasped, "Oh, Best Actor Lin, please don’t add to the chaos, okay, okay, I get it, you’re all very skilled, being a host these days isn’t easy either..."
With a bit of banter, the two hosts, along with Lin He, easily moved past the incident.
Ye Shaohua took the microphone handed to her by a crew member, looked at the three of them, thought for a moment, and then nodded seriously, her delicate face framed by the camera, her long, curled eyelashes trembling slightly, "...Thank you for the compliment?"
"Pfft..."
Both the audience and the hosts burst out laughing.
It had been two years since Ye Shaohua became famous, and it was her first time on such a show. The hosts thought she would panic in such a situation.
Unexpectedly, she handled it with great ease, not at all like a newcomer to variety shows.
However, her reaction inadvertently made Lin He and the two hosts think that Ye Shaohua really couldn’t play the guzheng, so they tried even harder to skip the topic.
Men Shanshan, standing to the side, struggled to maintain her smile, her fingers tightening around the microphone.
Lately, she had been too scared to check the comments on her Weibo. Ye Shaohua’s fans, who were already numerous and formidable, had attacked the offices of several newspapers that had previously badmouthed Ye Shaohua.
They had been criticized to such an extent, let alone Men Shanshan, who had been at the forefront of creating negative public opinion.
What shattered Men Shanshan most was that, in the past few days, Chen Xumin had also been fixated on Ye Shaohua’s Weibo and was not as attentive to her as before.
Even though she knew that making a fuss might result in her being permanently blacklisted by Li Zi TV Station.
But right now, what Men Shanshan wanted most was to see Ye Shaohua fall into the mire, her envy driving her nearly mad, "So, Sister Shaohua, don’t you want to play the guzheng? The audience friends really want to see, don’t you think?"
The audience below became even more enthusiastic.
The smiles on the hosts’ faces stiffened imperceptibly.
Without changing expression, Lin He glanced at Men Shanshan. His smile was as warm as ever, and he turned to the audience, "That’s not fair, don’t you want to see me play the guzheng?"
"We love both!" The audience below was so excited they were nearly frenzied.
Viewers in the back row stood up, waving their signs, their faces flushed with excitement.
Sister Jiang clutched her phone, glaring coldly at Men Shanshan, extremely annoyed. This incident couldn’t be covered up even by Lin He’s intervention; after the live broadcast, the articles about Ye Shaohua’s "education" would surely flood the media.
What wouldn’t the media do for traffic these days?
Especially since there were so many female artists being overshadowed by Ye Shaohua at the same time. The guzheng incident was trivial; Sister Jiang feared most those who were hell-bent on tarnishing Ye Shaohua’s "education".
Yet Sister Jiang didn’t have to worry for long.
She was once again astonished by Ye Shaohua’s next move.
Ye Shaohua gazed steadily at Men Shanshan, seemingly with a smile. She held the microphone in one hand and rolled up her sleeves. Then she spoke lazily, "Want to see me play the guzheng, huh? No problem."
"Holy shit! What is she doing?!" Sister Jiang shot up from her seat.
Remembering this, Sister Jiang grew even more irritated; because of Chen Xumin’s influence, Star City had kept Ye Shaohua’s information tightly under wraps for years, even falsifying a college degree.
At first, Sister Jiang worried about Ye Shaohua running into trouble, but later she found out Ye Shaohua spoke English fluently, so she was no longer concerned about fans accusing her of faking her educational background.
At the moment, hearing Men Shanshan asking Ye Shaohua to play the zither.
Sister Jiang’s mind conjured up that resume just as arrogant as Ye Shaohua herself, Special Skills—
Does shooting count?
"Go back and tell the Public Relations Department to prepare to get some photos from the Paparazzi following Men Shanshan," Sister Jiang swore under her breath, watching Men Shanshan with a sneer, "I’ll make sure she doesn’t get out of this unscathed."
Every artist always has a few Paparazzi following them all year round, and they have plenty of photos in their hands.
After giving her instructions, Sister Jiang furrowed her brow and looked up at Ye Shaohua on the stage, trying to communicate with her eyes, warning her not to fall for Men Shanshan’s poor acting skills.
Ye Shaohua felt Sister Jiang’s gaze, smiled at her with a sideways glance, and then looked down.
Her left hand pressed the strings for tuning, while her right hand strummed them.
Ye Shaohua didn’t wear fingerpicks; she played the song that had the loudest call from the audience, which was also the theme song of her last TV series—far from being a famous piece.
But with a casual pluck, the zither’s music spread out like flowing water.
The sound was incredibly soothing and smooth, with an emphasis on being light, delicate, and bright, beautiful to the core.
The audience fell silent in an instant, with some even closing their eyes to listen quietly.
After the song ended, the two hosts on stage hadn’t snapped back to reality, and the audience had forgotten to clap. Sister Jiang held her phone in astonishment as she watched the girl who had just finished the last note, pressing her hands on the strings, tilting her head and half-closing her eyes in a languid yet willful manner, looking into the camera to ask with great audacity, "Did you enjoy it?"
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