Chapter 255: The Eight Styles of Jingua

Casting a calm glance at him, I remarked, “Sir, you claimed that three coins and five jiao are hardly insignificant. I have offered you two hundred dollars; why do you reject it?”

The man, seated upon a cold bench, idly strummed a few notes on his pipa and languidly responded, “For the pleasure of listening to the pipa, a token of appreciation is deserved. To hear me sing, however, will cost you twenty thousand!”

Twenty thousand?

I was momentarily taken aback. To demand such an outrageous sum for a few verses sung in the dead of night was sheer robbery!

Yet, a nagging sense of unease gnawed at me. Here was a man nearing sixty, connected to a kung fu sect, selling his music behind me at such an hour—something seemed decidedly amiss.

At that moment, a faint realization began to surface; I was starting to uncover his true identity, though doubt lingered.