Xuanyuan Lige had placed a blood curse on the blood zither, and only Ziqing’s blood could break it. The thing he’d left for her was the melody carved into the bottom panel.

This way, even if the blood zither fell into someone else’s hands, it would be useless to them, because without breaking the curse, no one could use the blood zither to play Lament of Parting.

Put another way, even if the secret of Lament of Parting were ever leaked, without Ziqing, no one could play it!

A complicated look flickered across Jun Beiyue’s eyes—if their guess was correct, then all his previous efforts had truly been for nothing.

Whether their guess was right or not, they’d only know by trying.

The method of testing was simple enough—in the silence, Ziqing’s hands were already resting on the strings of the blood zither.

But at that moment, Jun Beiyue stopped her. “Wait!”

Everyone, tense with anticipation, looked on in confusion. Even Ziqing frowned.

Jun Beiyue sighed helplessly and personally fetched bandages and medicinal powder. “These hands are your life. How can you be so careless with them?”

His quiet scolding carried more tenderness than reproach, and Ziqing’s heart warmed as she obediently let him apply the medicine and bandage her wound.

Once bandaged, Jun Beiyue fetched brush and ink as well. “Write it down first, so nothing gets forgotten.”

As if Ziqing would ever forget. But she nodded obediently all the same, picking up the brush to transcribe the entire score she had just seen.

Suddenly, Ziqing realized that when it came to matters concerning Xuanyuan Lige, far from minding, he was even more meticulous about it than she was.

She wasn’t sure if he had changed, or if her view of him had changed.

That line—”My heart belongs to you alone; you may do as you please”—drifted unbidden into her mind.

Love, if it comes with too much calculated effort and too little natural ease, can only be called a relationship between a man and a woman—not truly love.

Once she finished transcribing, she smiled at him teasingly. “Your Highness, is this good enough?”

Jun Beiyue blinked, then understood her joke and answered with mock seriousness, “Approved.”

Everyone else was nearly bursting with impatience watching the two of them joke around, but no one rushed them. Faced with something concerning Xuanyuan Lige, seeing the two of them handle it with such calm and ease, without awkwardness, was exactly what everyone had hoped to see.

Soon, Ziqing returned to the instrument stand. Whether their guess was right or wrong would be proven the moment she played Lament of Parting.

Ziqing hadn’t played Lament of Parting since the campaign in the southern territories.

That piece had originally been a duet, a song of the isolated island. Once she’d decided to let go of the island, she’d thought she would never play it again.

And yet, here she was, about to take up the melody once more, because of Xuanyuan Lige.

“Ting…”

The music began. Unlike the thin, delicate tone of the plain zither, the blood zither’s sound was far richer and fuller.

Soon, as Ziqing’s fingers moved, the sorrowful melody flowed forth like a gentle stream.

There was no heart-wrenching grief, no wailing sorrow—only a quiet melancholy that, without anyone noticing, drew the listener in, pulling them unconsciously into the sadness the music conjured.

Without realizing it, Jue Mingzi was already in tears. Without realizing it, Jun Beiyue and Baili Weisheng had both fallen silent. Xiong Xiaobao lay slumped over the table, his eyes rimmed red.

No one noticed that Ziqing had already been playing for a long time—even Ziqing herself had lost track, absorbed entirely in the music.

No one noticed that this time, Ziqing’s fingers weren’t bleeding as they had before—she could actually play Lament of Parting on the blood zither!

The blood zither was nothing like the plain zither—it was an instrument of sonic slaughter.

Ziqing was not, after all, its true master, and as she played on and on, she forgot she was a musician at all, forgot she’d only meant to play a short passage.

The music rang on and on without pause, and no one in the room noticed anything amiss. Without anyone realizing it, an hour had passed.

And then, without anyone realizing it, another hour passed as well!

“Knock knock knock!”

Suddenly, an urgent knocking sounded at the door, and in an instant, Ziqing gave a violent start, snapping back to herself, her heart lurching hard!

“Ting!”

The music stopped abruptly. Only then did everyone around her come back to their senses, their faces filled with shock.

“Sonic slaughter…” Jun Beiyue blurted out, unable to imagine what might have happened if no one had interrupted and Ziqing had simply kept playing.

“Knock knock knock!”

The knocking came again—it was Hongyi’s voice. “Your Highness, Princess Consort, are you in there?”

Everyone heard Hongyi’s question clearly, but no one answered it, because at that moment, everyone’s attention was fixed on Ziqing’s hands.

“The blood curse… the blood curse is really broken!”

“We were right!”

Baili Weisheng and Jue Mingzi were overjoyed, while a complicated look flashed through Xiong Xiaobao’s eyes as he thought to himself that this man named Xuanyuan Lige, though his father’s romantic rival, did seem to have genuinely cared for his mother.

At the very least, he wasn’t an enemy.

Ziqing looked down at her own hands, only now realizing the truth—they had been right!

Rather than saying Xuanyuan Lige had given her a piece of music, it would be more accurate to say he had given her the blood zither itself.

Ali—even after leaving this world, you still went to such trouble, still thought of me.

Ali, even if we remain on opposing sides, even if we must face war again, even facing your stubborn willfulness, I still hope you’re doing well, wherever you are.

As long as you’re alive, that’s all that matters.

Not only Ziqing but Jun Beiyue too was moved with deep feeling. Xuanyuan Lige, Xuanyuan Lige—no wonder this prince considered you his only true rival. You were worthy of this prince’s respect!

“It seems the thing he gave you really was the blood zither itself,” Jue Mingzi remarked with feeling.

Ziqing nodded, gently stroking the blood zither, and let out a helpless, bitter smile. The man was gone now—what use was the blood zither? She might as well let it keep the plain zither company, sealing them both away together with Lament of Parting, left for some fated soul of a future generation.

Seeing Ziqing nod, Baili Weisheng kept shaking his head, suspicious. “Something’s not right… that stubborn fool, Little Lili—why would he go through such an elaborate scheme just to give you the blood zither?”

Leave it to the foul-mouthed scholar to keep a clear head. His words made Ziqing stop and think seriously.

When exactly had Xuanyuan Lige placed the blood curse on the zither? If he’d only meant to leave the blood zither to her, when had he made such a plan?

This man was truly impossible to understand!

During the campaign against Western Chu, Xuanyuan Lige had wanted to die at her hands, within the capital of Western Chu—and at that time, the blood zither hadn’t even been in his possession.

The blood zither had been lost long before that—it had been in Baili Weisheng’s hands the entire time!

The score on the blood zither, including the blood curse itself, had very likely been left there by Xuanyuan Lige a very long time ago.

That man was impossible to fathom; this matter was even more so.

Ziqing turned to look at the score she had just finished transcribing on the desk. Could it be that they’d overthought this—that what Xuanyuan Lige had entrusted Baili Weisheng to give her was simply the score itself, nothing more?

“Beiyue, help me fetch the plain zither.” Ziqing frowned, her expression deep in thought.

Soon, Jun Beiyue brought the plain zither over. Ziqing didn’t even need to look at the score—she had already committed it to memory, and began to play.

But the moment she began playing, Ziqing realized something was wrong!