"Pfft—!"
Before Qin Xin could say anything, Song Anjing burst into laughter first: "Brother Hu, did you mean to say Class Two is anything but ordinary? That's so silly, hahaha..."
Hu Yi scratched his head: "Just tell me if I have any literary talent or not."
Ao Xinghao chimed in: "Literary talent, my foot! Our class's performance is Yu Xiaochun singing, what's there to cheer for? If it were Sister Xin performing, that'd be something worth supporting."
Hu Yi: "True... Oh well. It'd be great if Sister Xin could participate..."
Qin Xin, speechless: "I have no talent."
Ao Xinghao glanced at Qin Xin's slender fingers: "Xin, with hands like these, they're perfect for playing instruments. You could play any orchestral instrument easily..."
He had practiced the bassoon for many years and could judge well.
But Qin Xin's fingers were like white jade without a trace of calluses, not looking like those of someone who plays an instrument.
