[center][b]Golden River Inn[/b]

[color=00FF00][b]Sheng Qingling[/b][/color][/center]
[@Salsa Verde]

Qingling placed his palms on the strings to quiet them, as if their vibrations would betray the uncertainty in his heart. [color=00FF00]I am at a crossroads. To go or to stay? To search or to stay put? You see, my parents are traveling entertainers, but we were separated at our last stop. I have been unable to find them. I had hoped to rendezvous with them here, in Xincai, where many paths meet, and that word of my music would reach them, leading them to me. But that has not happened. I have been on the road for my whole life, so I do not know of a 'hometown' that I could go to to wait for them. So for now, I am simply trying to earn my keep. Perhaps they will find me, or I will catch word of them. Their...exploits...can be very spectacular."[/color]

So as not to remain silent for too long and cause complaint, Qingling began playing again, this time strumming out a sweet, gentle tune reminiscent of the current season, Spring.