Yue Changsheng possessed a beauty said to be peerless throughout the ages. With the "Nine Heavens Ringing Jade," a guqin of celestial quality, in his hands, he was recognized by his contemporaries as the "True Voice of Antiquity." Naturally, his performances were grand affairs of immense prestige.
The Music Quarter had specially constructed a high pavilion for him in the center of the lake, named Langyuan. Surrounding it were twelve guest pavilions built over the water, known as the Twelve Jade Towers. Each Jade Tower could accommodate only one patron per session, and these spots were awarded to the highest bidder. The competition was fierce, with people flocking like ravenous gulls, willing to spend thousands of gold pieces just for a seat.
The scions of noble families who coveted Yue Changsheng were not all gentlemen. Many harbored wicked intentions, and some even ignored all warnings to steal into the central Langyuan. However, though Yue Changsheng appeared delicate and frail, every single troublemaker ended up being tossed into the lake by his hand.
Rumors in the streets claimed that the world’s greatest beauty also possessed the world’s greatest martial arts, adding a touch of mystery to his legend.
Yue Changsheng had a cold and indifferent temperament; his only passion was reserved for music. Usually, he remained silent, showing no preference for any particular food or clothing. He was indifferent to everything, treating the fanatical adoration of those around him as if it were nothing at all.
Whether Yue Changsheng performed or not depended entirely on his mood; catching a show was a matter of pure luck. Many paid exorbitant prices for a Jade Tower only to stare expectantly for an entire day, often missing him entirely.
Consequently, every time he took the stage, not only was the lakeshore crowded with onlookers who couldn't even see the action, but the guests in the Jade Towers would lean over the railings, cheering and peering out, looking as if they might slide right into the water.
Despite his indifference to external affairs, after six months at the Music Quarter, Yue Changsheng noticed something peculiar:
The first Jade Tower to the east was always empty.
The Jade Towers were built over the water and draped with thin gauze curtains. When unoccupied, the curtains hung to the floor. When a guest was present, the curtains were rolled up and tied to provide a clear view.
Those qualified to ascend the towers were all prominent young masters from noble families. They traveled with vast entourages of servants and guards who, while unable to fit inside the tower, ensured the area was never quiet.
Yet, the curtains of the First Jade Tower were never rolled up. The interior always appeared desolate, without a single shadow to be seen.
During a break, Yue Changsheng casually asked the manager about it. The manager replied:
"Oh, no. The First Jade Tower has a regular guest—the Eldest Young Master of the Zhongli family. He has come every single day for half a year now, never missing a performance."
Yue Changsheng couldn't help but feel puzzled.
The Zhongli Manor had been in its ascendancy these past few years, and he had heard of their thunderous, ruthless methods. For the Eldest Young Master of Zhongli Manor to secretly listen to his music for half a year without making a single move to approach him was entirely unlike the rumored style of the Zhongli family—where those who followed prospered and those who resisted perished.
The next time he took the stage, he couldn't resist glancing toward the First Jade Tower a few extra times.
The green gauze curtains hung as silently as ever, undisturbed even by the cool breeze.
For once, Yue Changsheng lost his focus during a performance: *How could anyone possibly be in there?*
After finishing a rendition of *Three Variations on the Plum Blossom*, Yue Changsheng gracefully exited the stage amidst thunderous applause. His young attendant, Yue Chou, hurried over to take the instrument.
Yue Changsheng asked, "Is there a guest in the First Jade Tower today?"
Yue Chou took the Nine Heavens Ringing Jade, carefully covered it with brocade, and replied casually, "Oh, it's just that Eldest Young Master Zhongli. Who else could it be?"
"Is someone really there?" Yue Changsheng was highly skeptical. He commanded, "Go and take a look."
Yue Chou gave a crisp response and hopped onto a small skiff, rowing away.
He returned a moment later, looking stunned and wearing a complex expression. "It really is the Eldest Young Master of the Zhongli family. But... he’s actually crying?!"
Yue Changsheng was stunned. "What?"
Yue Chou said, "Wow... you should have seen it. He was sobbing his heart out. It looked so miserable..."
Yue Changsheng frowned. "Why?"
"How should I know?!" Yue Chou shook his head repeatedly. "He looked so heartbroken that I didn't dare disturb him. I hurried back immediately."
Yue Changsheng’s suspicion grew.
One evening during his leisure time, just as night fell, he skimmed across the surface of the lake like a dragonfly, leaving only the faintest ripples. Inside the silent, gauze-draped enclosure, there truly was a man.
The man sat on the floor, leaning blankly against the carved railing. Around him was a stack of empty wine jars. His expression was haggard, shrouded in a thick cloud of gloom—he truly did look desolate and forlorn.
Yue Changsheng stood silently for a long while, memorizing that lonely, hollow face before quietly slipping away.
Yue Changsheng couldn't understand what he was suffering for.
He was a wealthy young master known for his profligacy, enjoying immense family fortune without the need to manage it. He was as handsome as a jade tree, with plenty of beauties throwing themselves at him. He only had to spend money and would never have to taste a drop of bitterness.
Even if he wasn't mad with joy, he certainly shouldn't have fallen to the point of drinking bitter wine alone.
Yue Changsheng forced himself to think about it for an entire day before giving up in frustration. He asked his attendant, "Have you heard of any difficulties the Eldest Young Master might be facing?"
Hearing this, Yue Chou took a stroll through the market and returned with his hands full of sugar cakes and news: "Master, everyone says the Eldest Young Master is suffering from a deep, unrequited love for Yue Changsheng. Since he has no way to meet you, he’s fallen into a deep melancholy and lovesickness."
"..."
Yue Changsheng fell silent.
*So the source of the trouble is me?*
The days passed uneventfully, and in the blink of an eye, another year had gone by. The First Jade Tower to the east always had a guest, yet the curtains were never raised.
Requests for meetings from various noble sons piled up on his long desk, layer upon layer. Yue Changsheng flipped through the letters but couldn't find a single invitation from Zhongli Manor.
Initially, he had watched from the rooftops with a touch of malice, wondering when the Young Master would give up. Wealthy young masters usually lacked patience; their talk of "love" was mostly a game. How could one truly be so devoted, seeking no reward for so long?
But every time he went, that man was always in the tower.
The Eldest Young Master no longer looked like the green youth of a year ago who wore his sorrow on his face.
Yue Changsheng watched him silently, day after day, discerning the dead-eyed desolation in the depths of his gaze.
Sometimes, Yue Changsheng didn't bother to hide his presence, sitting perched on the eaves of the roof. The Eldest Young Master would sense him, yet he never asked who he was, nor did he ever strike up a conversation.
The two sat in silence, developing a strange sort of tacit understanding.
Yue Changsheng had no doubt that this man would spend the rest of his life sitting silently in that guest seat, watching until he grew old.
Finally, one day, Yue Changsheng could no longer contain his curiosity. He asked, "Eldest Young Master, I hear you are miserable because you cannot meet Yue Changsheng. Is it true?"
Zhongli Zixu replied, "It is true."
Yue Changsheng was speechless. "...Is it really that painful?"
The Eldest Young Master poured himself another cup of clear wine and did not respond.
Yue Changsheng asked again, "Since you like him so much, why don't you request a meeting?"
The Young Master said, "I am a vulgar man. I fear offending the beauty."
To think it was such a trivial reason. Was this what they called "love so deep it turns to fear"? Yue Changsheng thought for a moment and, feeling a bit sorry for him, said, "I can arrange it for you."
But the Eldest Young Master rejected him flatly. "I thank you for your kindness, but there is no need to trouble yourself."
Yue Changsheng felt a surge of irritation.
Over the years, those seeking an audience with him were as numerous as the stars, yet he had never once agreed to a private meeting. This was the first time he had broken his own rules for someone, actively inviting him—an honor even an emperor could only dream of, a favor greater than the heavens.
And this fellow dared to be ungrateful.
Yue Changsheng quickly calmed himself. After all, he hadn't revealed his identity yet; the Young Master probably didn't believe him. Ignorance was bliss. Then he thought again: he was a celestial being; how could he lower himself to the level of this coward who had spent a fortune for a year but didn't dare do a thing?
Just as he had smoothed over his anger, he heard the Eldest Young Master say:
"I don't want to talk to you. Leave."
Yue Changsheng, whose persona was that of a youth of few words and even fewer emotions, felt the urge to cut someone for the first time in his life.
Yue Changsheng returned to Langyuan and decided that halfway through his performance the next day, he would have his servants bring the Eldest Young Master onto the stage.
When the Young Master realized it was him, he would say coldly:
"I wished to invite the Young Master into my inner chambers last night, but I was rejected. Since the Eldest Young Master does not wish to see me, I have no choice but to see the guest out."
Then he would order him to be driven away. He imagined the Eldest Young Master crying and clinging to his legs, admitting his mistake and saying he shouldn't have snapped at him tonight.
As for whether to forgive him, that would depend on whether he cried piteously enough. He’d have to make him cry for at least three to five days before pretending to reluctantly forgive him.
Yue Changsheng was feeling quite smug when he suddenly remembered the way the Eldest Young Master had looked when they first met—silently weeping in the shadows of the curtains. His heart suddenly felt a bit heavy.
He could only sigh. *Forget it. An apology will be enough. I won't torture him.*
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