At this moment, even Wei Chen, who had finished playing, couldn't help but frown, as he looked down at Ye Fan with a hint of displeasure on his face.
He was recognized as a genius in the domestic piano field, and today was his national concert debut. He had planned to stun the audience with "Flight of the Bumblebee," a classic piece, but never expected someone would say his performance was mediocre. How could Wei Chen not be angry?
"What? Mediocre? Barely passing?"
Hearing Ye Fan's response, Wei Ziyi was completely stunned.
Clearly, she had not expected Ye Fan to make such an evaluation.
In front of everyone, Ye Fan nodded and said, "That's right! Barely passing! My assessment is very fair, because many senior pianists can only bring out about eighty percent of the 'Flight of the Bumblebee's' artistic conception, and for him to achieve sixty percent at his age is already quite good!"
"Really?" Wei Ziyi was utterly bewildered.