In his two-plus years on the Qinhuai River, Dong Chengfeng had met countless people, but not one possessed the bearing of the man before him.

This was a middle-aged man with a beard, tall and slender, wearing a sky-blue long robe with the somewhat fallen elegance of a scholar.

His appearance was even more outstanding.

He had refined eyebrows and clear eyes, with natural nobility between his brows that gave off an understated sense of pressure.

Most captivating were his eyes—calm and composed, stable and dignified, yet somehow making one afraid to look directly at them.

“What is your name?” he asked.

His voice was low and gentle, revealing no emotion.

“Yan Sanhe, I knew the man before me was extraordinary, but think about it—I was about to lose the fingers I used to play the qin. What did I have to fear?”

Dong Chengfeng said with some pride, “So I lifted my chin and answered openly: My surname is Dong, given name Chengfeng. What’s your name? Speak up!”

Yan Sanhe laughed. “If anyone else had asked that question, the outcome would have been a beating to death.”

“There’s something even more arrogant.”

After asking that question, he noticed Xiao Ze’s face change slightly, so he recklessly added another sentence:

“You summoned me here—for what purpose?”

“I summoned you to hear you play a piece.”

The middle-aged man stepped forward half a pace. “Play well, and you’ll be worthy of knowing my name.”

Dong Chengfeng thought to himself, “Well, well”—this man was even more arrogant than him. Rare!

“Nameless nobodies don’t deserve to hear me play the qin.”

Like a newborn calf unafraid of tigers, he thought this was just another person drawn by the music, and was determined to suppress this man’s aura.

“Tell me your name first, then I’ll play. Also, I charge one hundred taels per piece.”

As the words fell, Xiao Ze’s expression changed again.

The middle-aged man’s gaze swept lightly toward Xiao Ze, and Xiao Ze immediately stepped back half a pace.

“My surname is Zhao, courtesy name Rongyu. Don’t worry—you won’t be short of silver.”

Seeing him obediently answer, Dong Chengfeng felt immense satisfaction inside. “Where do you want to listen? In the courtyard or inside?”

“Inside.”

“Then let’s go inside.”

Dong Chengfeng took the role of host, lifting his leg and walking into the room.

Upon entering, he saw that this room wasn’t much different from his own—just more furnishings—and became even more casual.

When playing the qin, he liked to sit on the floor.

He hooked a cushion with his foot, gathered his robe, and sat down carelessly, plucking the strings a few times.

The middle-aged man glanced at him, then reclined on a daybed, half-closing his eyes. “You may play.”

Seeing this posture, Dong Chengfeng thought to himself that this man was an expert listener.

Those who truly knew how to listen to music never sat formally upright—they did whatever was comfortable.

Since he was an expert, he had to bring out his best skills.

Dong Chengfeng played his most proficient piece, “Spring River in the Flower Moon Night.”

When the piece ended, he didn’t hear the expected applause. All he heard was soft snoring. Looking up…

“Good heavens, he’d fallen asleep listening.”

Dong Chengfeng stopped here and looked at Yan Sanhe with an expression that said “you’re just like him.”

Yan Sanhe showed no shame on her face. “Sorry, I don’t understand qin music at all. I just find it quite sleep-inducing.”

“Yes, quite sleep-inducing.”

Dong Chengfeng’s expression now was exactly the same as when he’d heard the snoring years ago—completely beyond words.

He cursed inwardly: Damn it, does this bastard actually know how to listen to music or not?

Falling asleep to his qin music—who was he trying to insult?

Just as he was about to speak, Xiao Ze raised his hand in a gesture for silence, then noiselessly walked forward and gently covered the man with a thin blanket.

Then Xiao Ze took a cushion and sat down right in front of him, eye to eye, nose to nose.

Dong Chengfeng was completely confused.

What was going on?

Just as he was about to move, Xiao Ze’s gaze swept over, the warning meaning very clear.

Dong Chengfeng wasn’t at all afraid of the sleeping man, but for some reason felt somewhat wary of this person before him.

His master had once told him: A high monk without the air of incense, a general without killing intent—these were the most formidable, because you could never tell where their power lay.

Later events proved his instinct was correct.

This gentleman didn’t need a blade to kill—a tree leaf, a twig could easily take a life. His methods were ruthlessly efficient.

Just like that, he sat motionless for three full hours.

Just when he was about to die from holding in his urine, the man on the daybed awoke.

The man stretched lazily, his face showing a satisfied expression, then gave Xiao Ze a slight nod.

Xiao Ze spoke: “After you use the toilet, come back to collect your payment.”

Damn it!

Damn it!

Damn it!

Dong Chengfeng cursed inwardly. So what if you have money? You’ve damaged my vital parts by making me hold it—I’m not done with you!

After relieving himself, he returned as agreed to collect his payment. But the man pulled out a single copper coin from his pocket and placed it on the table:

“One copper coin to buy three years of your time, playing the qin exclusively for me.”

Not only insulting but humiliating.

Dong Chengfeng had never suffered such humiliation in his life. Just as he was about to explode, he suddenly realized something was wrong.

Playing the qin meant his three fingers would remain intact.

Which meant he would trade his three fingers plus one copper coin for these three years.

“What happens after three years?”

“The world is vast. Wherever you want to go, go. I won’t stop you, and no one will dare stop you.”

“What if I say no?”

Xiao Ze pulled out a small knife from his robe, placed it before him, and said expressionlessly, “Leave three fingers behind, and you may go.”

Fine, he’d stay.

He took the knife and without another word began to cut toward his fingers.

At this moment, the man suddenly spoke:

“Wang E was clever and patient his entire life, yet he taught such a rash disciple. I wonder if he can keep the lid on his coffin from the underworld.”

“Wang E is your master’s name?” Yan Sanhe interjected.

Dong Chengfeng didn’t answer, continuing on his own: “You don’t know how shocked I was when I heard those two characters.”

His master had bought him several years after leaving Jinling.

He had returned to the Qinhuai River only after his master died.

Over the years, he and his master had lived on the grasslands for a few years, spending the rest in the deep mountains.

No one knew who he was, and even fewer knew his master was Wang E.

He had only played one piece for this man, then sat rigidly for three hours.

Yet in such a short time, this man had thoroughly investigated his background.

“Who are you?” Dong Chengfeng asked.

Xiao Ze looked at him calmly. “The man before you is the current Crown Prince.”

The Crown Prince?

Actually the Crown Prince!

Dong Chengfeng suppressed his pounding heart and asked with feigned calm, “There are plenty of qin players in the world. Why choose me?”

“If you agree, I’ll naturally tell you the reason. If you refuse, there’s no need to know.”

A slight curve appeared at the corner of his lips beneath his beard.

“Dong Chengfeng, be decisive!”