Last night was not the right time for discussion, so we held a meeting today to sort things out.
During lunch, the five of us from the sect, along with Nie Xueqing, Nie Xiaoyan, Luo Cheng, and Muyu, sat together at a single table, discussing the matter as we ate. Since things had reached this point, I had no choice but to briefly explain my grievances with the Thousand Colors Palace. After listening, Lu Kaifeng pondered for a moment and said, "It is unlikely to be the Thousand Colors Palace."
"Why do you say that?"
"We currently know that Yin Huadi belongs to the Thousand Colors Palace, and Xia Ji has always been at odds with her; it would be difficult for them to work together." Lu Kaifeng added a piece of information not found in historical records: "Although Master never said it explicitly, she hinted that when the sect split years ago, Xia Ji’s personal will was the primary cause. From a young age, his talents were extraordinary, and he harbored ambitions of becoming a great statesman or a general. However, Grandmaster loathed the government above all else, a trait Master shares. Our First Senior Uncle, Zhan Tianhe, had no opinions of his own and followed Grandmaster blindly, which led Xia Ji to contemplate defecting. As for his eventual flight..."
Lu Kaifeng paused before continuing, "It was also because of Yin Huadi’s schemes that he was forced to flee."
I understood. In that sense, Xia Ji and Yin Huadi were enemies. Unless their goals were perfectly aligned and extremely difficult to achieve, it was indeed improbable that they would serve the same organization.
"We must return to that phrase: 'a favor that shouldn't have been done,'" Qiao Songlin said. "Azhi doesn't have many close friends she visits often. The one she shouldn't have helped is likely an outsider."
An outsider... My heart stirred, and I said slowly, "It could only be the Wen family, the Duan family, or... the daughter of Chancellor Zhang, Zhang Zhuyi."
Although the Wen sisters were close to me, the only ones I had truly "helped" were Wen Shu and Wen Jiang. The same went for Duan Qimo. These were minor personal matters; the likelihood of them warranting the intervention of a Consuming Radiance expert was slim. That left Zhang Zhuyi.
After the others heard my account of rescuing Zhang Zhuyi that night, they all agreed, "That is likely it." Nie Xueqing added, "While there are several types of restrictive drugs that kill the captive instantly, few act as rapidly as that one. They are expensive to produce. Whoever wants Zhang Zhuyi dead has a significant background."
The next day, she followed through on her promise and invited a tutor for me. Surprisingly, it was a flute-playing courtesan from the Qingshang Pavilion, ranked among the top twenty of the Music Division's beauties, named Wang Huizhi. Since it was inconvenient for me to travel lately, Master Wang very thoughtfully sent a visiting card, proposing to come to my home every afternoon to teach. The top ten of the Music Division were mostly players of the qin, zheng, or pipa; for a flute player to break into the top twenty was enough to call her the finest in the world. Such humility from her made me feel quite ashamed, and I waited at the bottom of the steps early that day to welcome her.
Since she wasn't acting as a social companion for an outing, Master Wang put on no airs. She didn't use a sedan chair but instead brought only a single maidservant, walking all the way from Pingkang Ward to Yongzhao Ward. She appeared to be in her thirties, with a refined and serene countenance. She was well-preserved, looking barely twenty, yet her temperament was elegant and profound, carrying the fragrant essence of years of refinement. I greeted her with an industrious smile, saying, "In such bitter cold, how could you come on foot, Master? It shames your student. I should have sent a carriage to fetch you long ago; this was a grave oversight on my part."
Master Wang replied with a smile, "This distance is nothing. I make it a point to walk every day as a way to maintain my health."
Chatting and laughing, we entered the courtyard. Wang Huizhi stopped to admire the scenery and pointed toward a small, snow-covered pavilion by the stream. She asked politely, "I see this place is open and quiet, with a pleasant atmosphere. If Madam Su does not mind the cold, would it be alright to conduct our lessons here?"
It was a small pavilion on the eastern side, named Xiaoguang—Dawn Light—after the Tang poem line: "To shine upon the parting's sorrow, standing tall until the dawn light." Naturally, I had no reason to refuse. At that moment, Zhu Yixin, Nie Xueqing, and Nie Xiaoyan were in the pavilion, sipping tea and laughing while looking over account books. Seeing the two of us arrive leisurely, they hurriedly rose to offer their seats, tidying up the scattered receipts and ledges. They laughed, saying, "We shouldn't let these mundane affairs clash with the Master's elegant aura."
"Not at all," Wang Huizhi replied with a smile. "We shall not interfere with one another. Please, remain seated."
She was approachable, bridging the gap between the refined and the mundane—a true mark of a great artist. I found her even more likable and smilingly asked her to play a piece for us first to cleanse our ears. Seemingly moved by the beauty of the garden, she readily agreed and chose to play "Bang Zhuang Tai" (Beside the Dressing Table) as a solo flute piece. I hurriedly interjected, "This piece is most beautiful when performed as a duet for flute and zheng. Would you mind if I called an 'outsider' to accompany you?"
For the first time, Wang Huizhi showed a look of approval, her smile deepening. "A love for music is human nature; there is no such thing as an insider or an outsider. That would be wonderful."
Zhu Yixin knew exactly who the "outsider" I spoke of was. With a giggle, she leaped up and dragged Lu Kaifeng from the back courtyard, with Qiao Songlin called along as well. Fortunately, the estate Master Wei had bought was exceptionally spacious. Though the name "Xiaoguang Pavilion" sounded delicate, its actual area was quite large; adding ten or eight more people wouldn't have made it crowded.
Caught off guard, my Eldest Senior Brother hadn't expected to be drafted into a performance. He looked helplessly at Zhu Yixin and me as we laughingly set a zheng on the table for him, leaving him no choice but to brace himself and accept. Today was the day the East Market closed for its monthly mid-month cleaning and reorganization, and given the recent concerns for my safety, my brothers and sisters were staying home, whether intentionally or not. The shop was temporarily closed.
Back on the mountain, only Master and Eldest Senior Brother knew how to play instruments. Since Master reached the middle stage of Consuming Radiance and became a Great Master of Light at the age of sixty-four, her cultivation had barely budged. Instead, her mastery of various arts had grown increasingly mellow. Aside from sleeping more than twelve hours a day, she spent most of her time pondering these things. Since childhood, we were accustomed to the music drifting from the Falling Dream Pavilion, encompassing the flute, xiao, qin, and zheng. A famous Tang Dynasty pipa named "Lovesick Wood"—named after Li He's poem "Divine Strings," which mentions "lovesick wood inlaid with golden dancing phoenixes"—hung in the pavilion year-round, though none of us had ever seen her play it.
She had once seriously made the four arts—zither, go, calligraphy, and painting—mandatory subjects for her disciples, with requirements even stricter than those for our path of illusions. In the end, she only managed to teach Lu Lingfeng to paint and Lu Kaifeng to play the zheng. Lu Lingfeng had a flighty nature and often smeared ink according to her own whims. Although Lu Kaifeng was honest and willing to learn, he was too restrained and failed to grasp the true essence of carefree spontaneity. Master eventually lost her patience and gave up in a fit of pique. By the time it was my Third Brother's turn, she only required him to write well... and she didn't even teach him herself. Instead, she invited Dong Boying, one of the five great masters who happened to be staying at the Myriad Demon Stockade, to come up the mountain. Only then did we manage to have at least one of the four arts we could passably show off...
As for this piece, "Bang Zhuang Tai," it tells the story of Wang Zhaojun and is one of the five "Songs of the Frontier." The reason I knew the flute and zheng duet sounded better than a solo was that Master had performed it many times. Rarely, she would show a melancholy expression, sighing that there was no one to harmonize with her on the zheng.
Lu Kaifeng gave a compensatory cupped-fist salute to Wang Huizhi, then looked around at us and laughed. "I haven't picked this up in years. Don't blame me if I make mistakes."
"It matters not, it matters not," Wang Huizhi replied with a beaming smile.
Zhu Yixin chuckled and patted his shoulder. "Big Brother, don't feel pressured. We're mainly here to listen to Master Wang!"
Her words made everyone laugh, and Lu Kaifeng seemed to truly shed his burden. After washing his hands, he politely invited Wang Huizhi to take her seat before smoothing his robes and sitting upright, hovering his hands over the strings.
Wang Huizhi steadied her breath, focused her mind, and with downcast eyes, sent out a single note. It was like a gust of autumn wind blowing through the fragrant grass of a vast wilderness, or the clear cry of a wild goose flying south. The zheng notes followed, like layers of ripples over the tips of the grass, passing smoothly from one to the next. Three repeated phrases followed, the flute questioning and the zheng answering, suddenly merging into a second gust of wind. It was like a vent for emotions that could no longer be restrained after repeated self-questioning. Before the listener's eyes, high mountains and vast lands appeared; looking down, the sagebrush brushed against one's knees. A grand scene of the frontier manifested.
At this point in the story, Zhaojun had already left the Han lands for the Xiongnu territory, sitting by her dressing table and gazing fruitlessly into the mirror. In the unfolding music, the zheng was like the silent, wordless objects of a foreign land, or the distant home she missed. The flute was Zhaojun’s delicate, slightly cool inner monologue. Back then, Master had rarely been angry at Eldest Senior Brother for failing to master the arts; only today did I realize he hadn't learned poorly at all. Especially in this piece, he did his best to support and complement her. The mood was gentle and elegant, adding warmth to a piece so heavy with autumn sorrow, balancing it perfectly. It was as if the supposedly harsh and heartless grasslands were instead comforting the lonely Zhaojun, harmonizing with her. This was the warmth and temperament of my Eldest Senior Brother.
Wang Huizhi’s performance was exceptionally clear and graceful, vast and ethereal, incredibly noble and moving. The sorrow and longing were palpable, yet it was "grief without injury," a balanced and upright interpretation. Listening to her, one forgot about technique entirely; it was like a creation of the gods, beyond words, like the "antelope hanging by its horns," leaving no trace to be found.
In the end, we remained silent until Nie Xiaoyan lost herself in thought and accidentally dropped her tear-stained handkerchief on the ground. Nie Xueqing shook her head and laughed, "I’m just a crude person. I’m moved, certainly, but I feel that Master Wang’s Zhaojun isn't actually that full of bitter resentment."
She had hit the mark exactly. Wang Huizhi nodded with satisfaction, then turned and asked me softly, "What does Zhenzhen think?"
I thought for a moment and smiled. "'Bang Zhuang Tai' should be different from the final piece, 'Thinking of Han.' It represents Zhaojun when she first arrived at the frontier—young and full of curiosity about the world. Being a woman, she would be shy and apprehensive before her mirror. Even facing a completely unknown world, she would care whether others valued her beauty, unable to focus solely on sorrow. Everyone knows Wang Anshi’s famous line about Zhaojun: 'The Han Emperor's favor was shallow, while the Barbarian's was deep; life's joy lies in finding a soulmate.' Yet he also had a contrary judgment: 'Life's disappointments know no north or south.' Zhaojun cannot speak for herself; her sorrows and joys are left to the imagination of us later generations."
After a period of chatting and discussion, Wang Huizhi concluded with a smile, "Bells, chimes, strings, bamboo, and drums—these are the five sounds. When a gentleman hears them, his thoughts differ. Among them, 'the sound of bamboo is overflowing; it overflows to establish a gathering, and the gathering is used to assemble the masses.' Though this saying has a negative connotation, today has been a wonderful meeting and gathering with all of you, and I have learned much."
I asked her to appraise the pair of "Jade Exquisites" sent by Xu Yanxi. Wang Huizhi praised them highly but said that for a beginner, a bamboo tube was best. she took out a bamboo flute she had prepared earlier and gave it to me. It was a flute in the key of Zheng-gong, suitable for children or women with slender fingers. Its design was archaic and elegant, with a branch of apricot blossoms carved at the end, inscribed with the lines from Li He’s "Feng Xiaolian": "Her skirt hangs with bamboo-leaf ribbons, her temples damp with apricot blossom smoke." It was named "Apricot Blossom Smoke," and its tone was fresh and hazy, like spring rain on apricot blossoms, or the voice of a petite and exquisite peerless beauty.
I studied for three consecutive days. Master Wang’s teaching focused on encouragement, yet she was never stingy with criticism, being most rigorous with details. Every day, I practiced only basic scales and fingerings; for articulation, we practiced only the light tonguing.
Because Chu Jiangheng sent someone to ask me to go to the yamen to sign some documents and complete the formalities, I had to leave the house for the first time in a while. Just as Aze opened the main gate, we saw someone sitting on the steps, leaning against a large lacquered chest, fast asleep. Who else could it be but Gu Shuguan...
He had come to deliver a congratulatory gift. I was both moved and amused. I stepped forward quietly, intending to peek inside the chest, but the "Divine Thief" jumped up alertly, pouncing on the chest like a hen protecting her chicks. Seeing it was me, he gave a bright smile. "Ah, Sister Su! You’re trying to steal your own gift?"
"Such a large chest. Where did it come from?"
Gu Shuguan scratched his head. "It seems to be... a birthday gift from the hometown of a young lady in Chancellor Zhang’s manor."
I nearly doubled over laughing. "Do you realize that the Chancellor’s villa is right next door!"
"I know, I know. So the gift has technically been delivered, just shifted a bit to the side."
"Why were you sitting here? Why didn't you call someone?"
"I was going to leave you a note, but I thought it better to tell you in person." He turned uncharacteristically serious. "Someone is watching you. They’re circling the perimeter of the protective array." As he spoke, he signaled with his eyes toward the northeast. "There. As soon as you came out, that person immediately prepared to move this way."
He was naturally able to distinguish between the Yingzhao Temple’s secret guards and those with ill intent. Because of his peerless lightness skills, his ability to identify lurkers was extraordinary. I nodded to show I understood and thanked him solemnly. He gave another giggle and drifted away like a gust of wind.
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