Servants are not permitted to shed tears. Zhu Yixin and I stood side by side, watching in silence. Neither of us wept, yet the sweat in our palms seemed to serve as a substitute for the tears in our eyes; a shared dampness passed from her hand to mine.
The crowd began to disperse, their chirping laughter and cheerful chatter sounding to my ears like a forced, deliberate display of carefree abandon. Qiao Songlin approached and lightly patted our shoulders. I shook my head with a smile. "Sister Jiang is returning to her room; I must follow her immediately. I’ll leave Zhang Zhuyi to you, Fifth Sister."
After Xue Yishan destroyed her qin and severed its strings, she ignored Yin Deng’s frantic attempts to stop her. She flung off the maid's hand and strode out of Xixi Tower. Wu Yin caught Yin Deng, and the two exchanged a bitter, helpless smile.
Duan Qimo, however, remained on the stage. She leaned down leisurely, picked up a broken string from *Spring Thunder*, and rolled it between her fingers. With a faint smile, she brushed off her robes and stood, heading toward the room where Wen Jiang was staying.
I only just managed to cast an invisibility spell and hide in the corner of the second-floor eastern corridor before Duan Qimo arrived. The hem of her sleeve nearly brushed my arm. The door should have been protected by strict restrictions, but to her, the host, they seemed nonexistent. She brushed them aside with a casual wave. My heart leaped into my throat as I took the risk of following her inside. Fortunately, nothing happened; no alarms were triggered.
Wen Jiang had drunk quite a bit during the time Dong Banyuan was dancing. Now, heavily intoxicated and unable to support her own weight, she lay languidly on the couch. Her maid, Lingqing, was busy removing her jewelry, taking off her shoes and socks, and peeling away her intricate red robes.
When Duan Qimo entered, Lingqing naturally recognized her. Startled, the maid instinctively spread her arms to shield Wen Jiang.
Duan Qimo sat down calmly at the table. She stared at the two of them for a moment before suddenly laughing. "Is this how I appear in your eyes? That every time we meet, I must commit some lewd depravity against her?"
Lingqing’s face flushed. Though she was terrified, she straightened her back and said forthrightly, "Protecting my mistress is my duty. Even if a stranger burst in, I would do the same. I only hate that I lack the skill to truly protect her."
Duan Qimo said no more on the matter, merely waving a hand dismissively. "If you refuse to leave, then stay. Help her up; I wish to speak with her."
Wen Jiang was helped into a sitting position. Her eyes were hazy with drink, yet she recognized the visitor clearly. she gave a soft, delicate laugh. "Master Duan, have you come to seek pleasure with me again? Mm-mm, no, that won't do. The rules of this banquet... such a thing isn't allowed!" As she spoke, she even pouted, eyes closed, playfully wagging a slender, pointed finger in front of her face.
Duan Qimo let out a derisive snort. She reached into her robes and produced a medicine bottle and a thin jade strip—likely the key to some formation—and placed them silently on the table. The moment Wen Jiang saw the bottle, her expression shifted instantly. It was a look of such intense hatred and fear that her body began to tremble. She stared fixedly at the bottle for a long time, her beautiful face twitching until it became almost a contorted mask of rage. Then, she burst into wild laughter. "Haha! Come to feed me medicine again, have you? You must feed me well this time—don't use those filthy, disgusting methods!"
"This is a top-grade Spring Night Pill." Duan Qimo unhurriedly uncorked the bottle and tapped two pills into her palm, where they rolled around like pearls. "It guarantees that the two people sharing the night will remember nothing the next day, save for the feeling of ultimate bliss. There are no side effects whatsoever."
"Oh, how generous of you," Wen Jiang said with a giggle. As the heat of the wine surged, she casually shrugged off her outer robe and tossed it aside.
Duan Qimo smiled and activated the formation key. A section of the seemingly ordinary wall near Wen Jiang’s bed suddenly slid open, revealing a dark, deep passage that led to parts unknown. Only then did Wen Jiang and Lingqing realize Duan Qimo’s intention: she intended to lead someone else into the room rather than doing the deed herself...
Lingqing, weeping with rage, grabbed whatever objects were at hand and hurled them at Duan Qimo. Duan Qimo did not block them; she simply tilted her head or shifted her body to avoid them. If she couldn't avoid one, she let it strike her. One of Wen Jiang’s gold hairpins, thrown by Lingqing, grazed her temple. She merely reached up with a finger to wipe away the bead of blood, her expression indifferent.
"Since you wish to choose a good husband," Duan Qimo said, "I have connected this small teleportation array to the room of Secretary Wang’s only son. He has long admired you, and his character and temperament are reliable. All he lacked was the opportunity to meet you. Secretary Wang is the favored son-in-law of Chancellor Zhang; this match would not be beneath you."
Wen Jiang laughed uproariously. "A thousand thanks would not be enough to describe the 'affection' between us! Since you care so little for me now, then all is well!"
"Yes," Duan Qimo said flatly. "It was I who kept forcing the issue, ruining your life. This medicine was supposed to be slipped into your evening meal or wine; I had intended to keep forcing you. Now, I will force you no longer."
She loosened her grip and let the bottle drop to the floor. The thin porcelain shattered into pieces, and the pills rolled away in the dust. She then took the formation key in her hand, applied her strength, and snapped it. The connection to the array vanished instantly.
"I do not know how much of Lady Dong’s unexpected dance you took to heart tonight, Miss Wen. I watched it from beginning to end," Duan Qimo said. "Lady Dong came from a clean family and was registered as a courtesan at thirteen. For fourteen years, everything she did was to earn a single look from Xue Yishan. One could call that the height of devotion. Since she is willing to let go, why should I not be? Though I have only ever loved you, I have also hurt you the most. In that regard, I am far inferior to her."
She gave a faint smile, paused for a moment, and then continued. "Miss Wen, I have never mentioned our first meeting—it was, after all, a life-saving favor. I was young and arrogant then, acting foolishly. Now that I have found my way back from the path of error, I will trouble you no more. For the sake of that initial kindness, forgive me a little. Hate me more if you must, but eventually, cast it all aside and seek your own bright future."
"Our first meeting... a life-saving favor?" Wen Jiang’s face was a map of disbelief, which quickly turned into a frenzied rage. "How do you have the face to call that a life-saving favor! I suppose I should thank you for feeding me that kind of pill back then?"
Duan Qimo did not wish to say another word. She rose, gave a loose and careless bow, turned, and left.
As soon as she was gone, Wen Jiang struggled to the floor. As if she harbored a visceral hatred for all medicinal pills, she grabbed a lampstand and smashed it wildly against the ground, grinding the pills among the porcelain shards into fine dust. The fluorescent stones embedded in the lamp shattered, emitting weak, trembling, starlike glimmers of light.
She refused to cry, but Lingqing wailed loudly on her behalf. The maid knelt and grabbed her mistress's hands, careful not to let her be cut by the shards, even as her own knees were pierced and bloodied.
Finally, Lingqing managed to pull the panting, teeth-gritting, manic Wen Jiang into her arms. She sobbed, "She’s finally gone. That villain will never hurt you again, Miss. Tomorrow you can find someone who truly cares for you, and you can marry..."
I was also weeping with sorrow, yet I remembered that Wen Jiang’s safety was paramount. While they were distracted, I quietly moved to the site of the original teleportation array. I inspected it carefully to confirm it was truly destroyed. Still uneasy, I set up several protective array disks from the Wujing Sect—given to me by Wei Qingming—around her room. I specifically sealed off that wall, left warning marks, and used illusions to conceal everything. Should Wen Jiang encounter danger, I would be able to rush to her aid immediately, even if I were asleep in the large communal bunk on the third basement level.
Wen Jiang rested in Lingqing’s arms for a while before suddenly laughing again. As she laughed, she frowned, unable to suppress a fit of dry heaving and coughing. I could not bear to watch any longer and slipped out of the room.
Duan Qimo was long gone, perhaps having already left the building. In the courtyard, the snow had begun to fall in a light, pattering drizzle.
Upon returning to the main hall, I was scolded by Mother Yang for slipping away. I had no heart to put on an act for her; I simply stared at her with a cold, stony face. Surprisingly, this didn't provoke any suspicion. I suppose Ling Yao, being an assassin, usually wore such a frigid expression.
Before the lights were extinguished for the night, I met with Zhu Yixin. She said Zhang Zhuyi had remained low-key and well-behaved, returning to her room to bathe and sleep. It seemed that without the demonic qin, she would not make a move.
The next morning featured a snow-viewing and poetry-reciting event in the courtyard. Duan Qimo arrived early, her brow no longer clouded by resentment. She was serene and pleasant, chatting and laughing with everyone she met. Yan Xiangjun, who had danced with her the previous day, approached with a smile to strike up a friendship. Since both were formally trained in swordsmanship, their topics of conversation differed from those of the pampered young ladies of the capital. They found each other's company refreshing and became fast friends.
Yan Mingqiu should have been quite popular—the legitimate son of a Duke’s house, destined to inherit the title after his father. His return to the capital, like that of Wen the Fifth and Xiao Xuelin, was likely because the sect had allowed disciples to visit home before the impending war. However, he seemed particularly intolerant of worldly life. Aside from Yin Shuhong, who persistently questioned him about his sect, the other women had long been driven away by his chauvinistic attitude...
When Wen Jiang arrived, her demeanor was no different from the previous day’s banquet—if anything, she was even more open and spirited, chatting gaily with anyone who approached. Looking at her makeup, which was so brilliant it was almost hard to look at, I felt she was much like the "Palace-Illuminating Red" flower she had worn in her hair when the feast ended last night: blooming to the absolute limit, yet every moment looking like the very instant before withering.
Wen Gan and Wen Qi huddled together, leisurely grinding ink with smiles on their faces. Since the fourth Master Wen was a skilled painter, Wen Qi also possessed some talent; the two were discussing gathering material to paint the people filling the courtyard for Little Yin. Little Yin, finding Yu Niannian to be straightforward and talkative, immediately abandoned Yan Mingqiu to chat animatedly with her.
Zhang Zhuyi disdained such boring, trivial matters and did not leave her room at all.
In the afternoon, Xixi Tower invited a Southern Opera troupe. They performed poignant, heart-wrenching tales of scholars and beauties, providing a backdrop for new couples to whisper their feelings for one another. Since the fall of the Yushan Troupe, there was no longer a definitive leader in Southern Opera. The former second and third-ranked troupes were competing fiercely, which led to a constant stream of new and excellent plays. Today’s performance was by the Yunlai Troupe, which reportedly employed several old masters from the Yushan Troupe as instructors. As I listened, I couldn't help but recall the past, my heart feeling both sweet and sour.
The young Master Lu and Miss Yao, who had competed in calligraphy and painting the day before, were indeed sitting together. He Huan and Zhou Jihong had truly slept in the snow all night, giving the night watchmen quite a fright. Zhou Sihui, Wen Gan, Yin Shuhong, and other unconventional souls were still leisurely cracking melon seeds and sipping tea, laughing at how the characters in the play couldn't let go.
How does one let go... I do not know what truly transpired between Duan Qimo and Wen Jiang; it was a mess of misunderstandings and twists of fate. But after years of obsessive suffering, just as things seemed to improve, they were met with a setback. Duan Qimo said she would no longer force it, but how could she truly let go? And could Dong Banyuan really find the happiness she sought with Song Zhixian? I knew too little of her to judge; perhaps she and Xue Yishan never even shared the bond of Bo Ya and Ziqi. The Qin Queen’s despairing act of destroying her qin proved she was not heartless; likely, it was her status as a woman that prevented her from granting what was asked.
A-Yun, A-Yun... there is so much misfortune in this world. I am perhaps the luckiest of all, for the one I love is you.
***
**Glossary**
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 春雷 | Spring Thunder | The name of Xue Yishan's famous Tang-dynasty qin. |
| 春宵丹 | Spring Night Pill | A high-grade pill mentioned by Duan Qimo; an aphrodisiac with memory-altering properties. |
| 王中书 | Secretary Wang | A government official; "Zhongshu" refers to the Central Secretariat. |
| 照殿红 | Palace-Illuminating Red | A type of vibrant red flower (likely a peony or camellia). |
| 南戏 | Southern Opera | A genre of Chinese opera originating in southern China. |
| 云睐班 | Yunlai Troupe | A Southern Opera troupe performing at Xixi Tower. |
| 伯牙子期 | Bo Ya and Ziqi | A classical allusion to soulmates or those who truly understand one's music/heart. |
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