On stage, Ophelia Wilson naturally heard Grace Wilson’s words, and a strong sense of sarcasm flashed in her eyes.
Could her splendor be stolen by Sophie Wilson?
With a smile, Ophelia turned her head sweetly to look at the man beside her. It was this man she had loved for so many years who gave her the glory she had now.
She really chose the right person; Jas Reed was indeed worthy of her lifelong trust.
Ophelia happily leaned her head lightly on Jas Reed’s shoulder, inhaling the scent of his n’s perfu, her whole heart ready to explode with excitent.
"Is this the effect you wanted?" Benjamin Smith, enveloped in a gloomy atmosphere, stared coldly at the director. "What the hell does this have to do with the drama?"
"Once netizens see this news, naturally they’ll bring up our drama." The director chuckled dryly. "Teacher Smith, don’t be like that. Nowadays, what doesn’t require promotion and hype? Even the best things need a little shouting; otherwise, who knows there’s sothing good here?"
"I don’t even know if this is the premiere of a new drama or their proposal press conference!" Benjamin Smith gritted his teeth, each rough stubble standing in defiance, announcing his dissatisfaction.
"As long as the final result is good, that’s all that matters, that’s all..." The director wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, his already receding hairline showing signs of further retreat. Wasn’t he doing this for the drama?
Teacher Smith was just too stubborn.
A powerful piano sound abruptly broke through, like a sharp dagger viciously piercing the cozy romantic atmosphere.
Who was that?
The crowd imrsed in the sweetness of Ophelia Wilson and Jas Reed all impatiently turned around to look at the piano placed in the corner.
Due to the angle, most people couldn’t see the player, while the few who could were puzzled, wondering when this person had moved over there.
Jas Reed’s eyebrows knitted in displeasure; the pianist he arranged should have already completed their task. Who arranged this now?
The venue staff were about to go over to drive away the person behind the piano, but the smooth piano music hamred down, heavily landing in the depths of everyone’s heart.
The stirring piano sound seed to be the chaos of war raging and bombing within the venue, instantly bringing everyone into a past era of turmoil.
There, those defending their ho and country used their flesh and blood to resist the enemy’s rifles and artillery, with death fires ahead and their hos and families behind.
One ordinary person after another stood firmly on the battlefield amid the enemy’s invasion; they might be young, they might have grey hair, but their steps were equally firm—vowing not to return until lost land was recovered!
Soone was already sobbing uncontrollably; no one rembered the earlier romantic proposal, but instead thought of the arduous wars their country once endured, pondering how many martyrs sacrificed their lives to win the peaceful days of today?
The press conference was live broadcast, and many elderly in front of TVs seed to return to the war-torn years with the piano sound, alongside the exploding enemy gunfire and the hoarse shouts of their companions, holding simple weapons in their hands, shouting: "Charge! Charge! Charge!"
For the family behind, for the land beneath their feet, for tens of thousands of descendants, vowing never to beco a vanquished nation!
Countless elders were crying uncontrollably in front of the TV like children.
After a series of shocking tremolos, the piano music abruptly stopped.
The perforr sat in the chair gasping urgently; such a soul-infused piano piece could truly move people’s hearts, yet it also heavily drained the perforr’s ntal energy.
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