Lu Huanzhi finally came to his senses. His face changed color as he suddenly drew his sword from his waist and thrust it toward Li Xie.

Li Xie dodged. Lu Huanzhi immediately bolted for the door, but Li Mu tripped him with one foot.

With a “thud,” he fell heavily onto the threshold, his nose striking the wood. Blood immediately began to flow.

The courtesans all cried out in alarm.

Li Xie gestured to the women, ordering everyone to leave.

The women knew they had gotten caught up in serious trouble tonight.

These two men who had suddenly appeared outside the door were clearly no ordinary figures. Especially the one with the grim expression—the other had called him “Governor Li.”

Could this be Li Mu, who had recently returned to Jiankang?

How could the women dare to linger any longer? Avoiding Lu Huanzhi who was still unable to get up from the floor, they hurriedly filed out one by one.

Lü Niang was the last to leave. Lifting her skirt, she walked past Li Xie.

Li Xie’s face was stern as he commanded: “That man’s words just now were all slander. Tell your people to keep their mouths shut. Don’t say what shouldn’t be said! If I hear even half a word of gossip in the future, you won’t need to do business here anymore.”

Lü Niang stopped, at first remaining silent. Then she suddenly raised her hand and plucked a fresh balsam flower from her hair. With her rouge-stained slender fingers, she slowly inserted it into his lapel. Staring at him, her eyes rippling like autumn waters, she smiled and whispered in a voice like pillow talk: “If Langjun doesn’t trust me, why not come here often in the future and keep watch yourself? Wouldn’t that put your mind more at ease?”

Li Xie was startled. When he realized what had happened, he watched her turn and float away gracefully. Feeling rather embarrassed, he hastily pulled the balsam flower from his chest. Turning around, he saw Lu Jianzhi’s attendant still gaping at him with his mouth open. Suddenly coming to his senses, the attendant turned as if to jump out the window and escape. Li Xie cursed under his breath, rushed over to grab him, dragged him outside, and closed the door.

Li Mu crouched by Lu Huanzhi’s head and reached into his robes to retrieve the musical score, flipping through it.

He had seen Luoshen’s handwriting before.

He recognized at a glance that the score was indeed written by her hand.

His gaze fell on the date written in the corner of the last page, and all the blood in his body seemed to freeze at once.

He stared at that ink mark for a moment, then slowly turned his gaze to Lu Huanzhi, who was still lying on the ground. Pointing to the torn remnant left after the title page had been ripped away, he asked: “Where is this page?”

His voice still sounded calm, but dark waves were already beginning to surge in the depths of his eyes.

Lu Huanzhi opened his eyes.

“Surname Li, you want to know? I specifically won’t tell you!”

“Don’t think that just because she spoke up for you that day on the street, she truly has you in her heart! What are you anyway? A warrior from a humble family background—you’re not even worthy of carrying her shoes! You may be called her husband, but I imagine in her presence, you must be like a dog wagging its tail and begging for favor, afraid she’ll look down on you, isn’t that right?”

“She and I have known each other since childhood. Her heart has always been the softest—she can’t bear to see people acting pitiful before her. Even seeing a beggar, she’d give him a bowl of rice. The way you wag your tail before her—never mind that you’re a living man, even if you were a dog, she’d treat you well! She only spoke up for you because she saw you being humiliated by me on the street and pitied you!”

“What a pity—not only I alone, but everyone on the whole street heard it. She seemed to be speaking for you, but in her heart she was still thinking of my elder brother! In front of everyone on the street, she praised my elder brother’s character!”

“Yes, I, Lu Huanzhi, am without virtue or moral character, worse than pigs and dogs. I’m willing to accept her scolding. But what about you? You used underhanded tricks to steal her away from my elder brother. You’re nominally her husband, she’s already married to you, and after all this time, she still can’t forget my elder brother.”

“Li Mu, you’re truly pitiful!”

His mouth kept opening and closing. Blood flowed from his nostrils, spreading in streams that gradually covered both sides of his cheeks before flowing into his mouth. He didn’t wipe it away, making his appearance rather horrifying.

“I’ll ask you one more time—where is the title page?”

Li Mu seemed not to hear, his face expressionless as he asked again.

“Since you had someone follow me, you must have arrived early and heard my words. This is the musical score A’Mi gave my elder brother last March. The piece is called ‘Phoenix Cry.'”

He began laughing maniacally.

“I might as well tell you—I tore off the title page myself. As for what she said to my elder brother on it, I specifically won’t tell you!”

Li Mu’s five fingers suddenly clenched tight, his knuckles making a crisp cracking sound. Vein-like tendons bulged across the back of his hand in an instant.

He opened his hand and grabbed Lu Huanzhi by the front of his robes, actually lifting his entire body from the ground and hurling him away.

Though Lu Huanzhi was thin, he was still an adult man, yet his entire body flew out like a sack of flour. With a “bang,” he crashed heavily into the opposite wall, then bounced down onto the qin table below. Amid the chaotic buzzing sound of snapping qin strings, both man and table tumbled to the ground.

The entire side of ribs that had struck the wall were all fractured. Clutching his arms in agony, his whole body curled into a ball as he writhed in the corner.

“…A’Mi and my elder brother were perfectly matched, yet you stole another’s beloved. What right did you have? Originally, she would already be my sister-in-law by now…”

He was still moaning, his voice broken and intermittent.

“She and my elder brother are a match made in heaven. Back then at the Winding Water Banquet, when xiao and qin played together, who didn’t know… Do you think she only composed this one piece for my elder brother? In the past, she and my elder brother exchanged musical scores, expressing their feelings to each other. The one she loves is my elder brother… She only pities you…”

Li Mu strode forward.

A sword hilt struck viciously against his head.

Accompanied by a scream.

That hard human skull, under this sword hilt, was like a fragile eggshell, instantly cracking under the force.

Blood flowed from Lu Huanzhi’s head like a gurgling stream, instantly staining his entire face.

His body curled into a ball, his limbs twitching as if he might die at any moment, yet his lips were still slightly opening and closing.

“You wait… when my elder brother captures the Eastern Capital this time… A’Mi won’t know how happy she’ll be…”

That last thread-like voice also came to an abrupt stop.

Li Mu grabbed his throat and lifted his entire body high, suspending him in mid-air against the wall behind.

Under his grip—these iron-clamp-like fingers that had been stained with countless people’s blood—Lu Huanzhi’s neck was as fragile as an autumn reed about to rot, ready to snap with one twist.

Blood gushed in clumps from Lu Huanzhi’s nostrils and mouth corners. But on that face clearly filled with agony, there still seemed to linger the strange expression from moments before—a mixture of hatred and the near-euphoric satisfaction of successful revenge.

His throat gripped, unable to breathe, he rolled his eyes back and kicked his legs weakly in the air.

Li Mu looked at Lu Huanzhi, who was twisting his body helplessly under his five fingers without any power to resist. His gaze finally fixed on that face, twisted almost beyond recognition. After looking for a moment, the storm and tsunami, the mountain floods that had been gathering in his eyes and seemed about to explode at any instant, slowly disappeared.

In their place, a trace of desolation suddenly swept through his eyes.

Slowly, those bulging veins that had been coursing across the back of his hand also subsided.

He suddenly released his grip on Lu Huanzhi’s throat, turned and left without sparing him another glance.

Lu Huanzhi fell from the wall to the ground like something with its spine removed, lying there motionless.

Li Xie had just finished instructing Lü Niang and ordered his men to drive everyone from the building and close the main door. He stood guard outside this door himself.

Though separated by the door, he could imagine what was happening inside.

At first he could still hear Lu Huanzhi’s voice and screams coming through. Gradually, it became quiet inside, and he could no longer hear any sound from him. He became worried.

If Li Mu lost emotional control for a moment and actually killed him, this was Jiankang after all, and he was a living person, moreover from the Lu family. There would likely be legal trouble. Just as he was about to push the door open to intervene, the door opened on its own and Li Mu appeared before him.

His complexion didn’t look very good, but was still relatively calm.

Li Xie glanced at Lu Huanzhi on the ground, seeing him covered in blood with a horrifying appearance, lying motionless. He hurried over and felt for breathing, discovering he was still alive, just unconscious. Relieved, he walked back with a smile and said in a low voice: “General Li can go with peace of mind. I’ll keep watching this little bastard for you. After doing such a thing, he surely won’t dare admit it all to Lu Guang either. If the Lu family comes looking for trouble, I’ve already instructed that woman to say he came here making trouble first and nearly forced someone to death. The Governor happened to be passing by and seeing injustice, taught him a lesson, that’s all.”

Li Mu said: “Thank you, brother. Next time I’ll host and treat all the brothers to drinks.”

Li Xie sighed and hastily waved his hands: “How can General Li say such things? If not for General Li back then, never mind having me and those brothers today—we might not even have our lives. We brothers admire General Li with complete respect. This is just a small favor. In the future, wherever you can use us brothers, just speak up. Even if it means losing our heads, see if I’ll even furrow my brow!”

Li Mu also instructed him to keep watch over this place and not let Lu Huanzhi seek revenge later.

Li Xie’s mind conjured the scene of that woman pinning flowers to his lapel moments ago. He coughed and nodded: “You needn’t say it—I understand.”

Li Mu smiled slightly, bowed to him, then strode away, exiting through the back door as his figure disappeared into the night.

…

For her convenience in spending time with her parents, after returning, the two had continued living at the Gao residence.

When Li Mu returned to the Gao mansion, it was already mid-evening. Before he could dismount, servants at the gate came out to greet him, vying to pay their respects and lead his horse to the stable.

Li Mu entered and encountered A’Ju. After asking, he learned that Gao Qiao had returned early today and was accompanying the Eldest Princess—both had already retired to their room.

“Madam is also in her room. Has Li Langjun eaten dinner? Madam wanted to wait and eat together with you, but when you didn’t return, she ate first and instructed that food be saved for you,” A’Ju added.

Li Mu said he had already eaten outside and she needn’t trouble herself. As usual, with a smile on his face, he continued walking inside.

The closer he got to that courtyard, the slower his steps became.

The courtyard gate was open.

He knew she had left it open for him.

The courtyard was dimly lit, but bright lamplight shone from the window of the house.

Several servant women and maids waiting under the corridor were quietly chatting when they suddenly heard footsteps behind them. Turning to see he had returned, they hurried to greet him, saying Madam was bathing in the house.

Li Mu crossed the courtyard where banana leaves swayed gracefully, climbed the steps, and came to the door emanating bright light. Steadying himself, he gently pushed the door open and entered.

The outer room was empty. A hanging curtain separated inner and outer areas.

Amid the faint sounds of moving water, Li Mu heard her soft, cheerful humming of a tune, her clear voice melodious and charming.

Warm water washing smooth skin, droplets revealing her beautiful form.

Even with his eyes closed, he could imagine what enchanting scene was unfolding inside.

All he had to do was reach out, lift this soft-as-clouds curtain before him, walk to her side, and he could ask her about it.

Yet that hand seemed filled with lead, too heavy to lift.

The thin booklet in his chest, no more than ten pages, felt like a burning coal tucked into his heart, gradually growing hotter.

The scorching sensation spread from some usually hidden, unknown corner—perhaps one even he himself hadn’t noticed—continuously spreading, searing his limbs and bones, covering his entire body down to every inch of skin.

He felt restless and agitated, no longer able to maintain the composure he had shown before the servants. His expression gradually became rigid.

That day when he picked her up from the palace and encountered Lu Huanzhi’s provocation on the road, she had defended him. When Lu Huanzhi left in anger, he had vented all his fury on his mount.

That scene had made Li Mu vigilant.

Lu Huanzhi was merely an incompetent man, in both this life and the last.

But even the most incompetent person, once holding a blade, could still kill.

His body had once been pierced by Lu Huanzhi’s sword.

Out of instinct and to protect her—even if it was just overthinking—after sending her home, he had sought out Li Xie, this subordinate who had once been sent by Emperor Xingping to help him attack Ba Commandery. Now Li Xie controlled the capital guards with informants throughout the four quarters of the city. He had asked him to have people watch for any unusual behavior from Lu Huanzhi.

Indeed, his guess had been correct.

So quickly, Lu Huanzhi had begun his revenge.

But what Li Mu could never have guessed was that his revenge would take such a form.

Li Mu felt a trace of fear.

Not for the potential damage to his own reputation, but for her.

If Li Xie hadn’t notified him immediately and he hadn’t arrived in time to intercept it, if the musical score had truly spread, accompanied by rumors of a Gao family daughter sending her longings to her beloved across a thousand li, he couldn’t imagine what kind of situation she would have had to face.

Fortunately, nothing had happened.

He should have felt relieved about this.

He wanted to quietly destroy this musical score and let this matter pass quickly, as if nothing had ever happened—because he knew that everything Lu Huanzhi had said was malicious slander.

His A’Mi, if she hadn’t wholeheartedly fallen in love with him, how could she have ignored her father’s opposition last year at this time and resolutely followed him to Yi Cheng, remaining in that desolate place that had nothing, staying by his side step by step until today?

His A’Mi, if she didn’t truly love him, how could she have given him such passionate and tender treatment on that night before he departed for battle, making him tremble even now when he remembered it?

From the journey home onward, Li Mu had repeatedly told himself this—Lu Huanzhi was merely trying to anger him to gain his pathetic bit of vengeful satisfaction.

But those words still burrowed into Li Mu’s heart like poisonous snakes, impossible to drive away.

He thought of her father teaching him to write when drunk with wine. He thought of how in just the few days since returning, she had mentioned Lu Jianzhi several times in front of him, her tone full of admiration.

He knew she was completely unconscious of it. But precisely because it was unconscious, it showed how deep-rooted his influence on her was.

Perhaps she really was just taking pity on him—this kind of feeling probably even she herself was unaware of.

Li Mu despised himself for harboring such dark suspicions, yet he couldn’t control them.

This city of Jiankang, with its royal purple aura, was not only a tomb that had once buried his former ambitions and love-hate passions, but also constantly reminded him everywhere that there was a very important part of her life in which he had no participation.

Whether in his past or present life, he was merely an outsider who had abruptly intruded into her world, completely out of place.

Li Mu slowly turned his head, his gaze falling on the shelf beside the qin table where her musical scores were stored. He stared at it for a moment, then walked over.

The soft humming from behind the curtain suddenly stopped.

“Langjun, is that you who’s returned?”

Her uncertain, tentative voice came from inside.

No one answered.

Accompanied by gentle splashing sounds, that soft tune began again.

…

Luoshen finished her comfortable long bath, but still Li Mu hadn’t returned. Coming to the outer room and not seeing him, she couldn’t help but ask the maid.

The maid seemed somewhat surprised and smiled: “Didn’t Li Langjun see Madam? He already returned earlier and even entered the room. After a moment, he came out again without saying anything and left. We thought he had spoken with Madam.”

Luoshen was rather surprised. She truly hadn’t known that he had actually entered the room while she was bathing.

Hesitating, she suddenly remembered that earlier, while soaking, she had vaguely seemed to hear faint footsteps from the outer room.

At the time she had even asked aloud, but hearing no response, she had laughingly thought she had misheard and paid it no mind.

But the maid said he had come in.

Then clearly, she hadn’t misheard at that time—those footsteps were indeed his.

But why, when he had clearly returned and entered the room, had he suddenly left again without a word, not even greeting her?

Even if there was some urgent matter, surely it wouldn’t be so urgent that he didn’t have time to greet her?

Luoshen was puzzled and quickly sent someone to the front to see where exactly he had gone.

Shortly after, the servant woman returned, saying that her father-in-law and the Eldest Princess had already retired to their room, and Li Langjun was nowhere to be seen in front either. The gatekeeper said Li Langjun had taken his horse and left again, without saying where he was going or when he would return.

Luoshen was completely baffled, feeling in her heart that something was wrong. Standing bewildered for a moment on the steps outside the door, a sudden gust of wind swept over the wall, making the large banana leaves in the courtyard slap against each other with rustling sounds.

The moon hid behind dark clouds, and in the distance on the horizon, a flash of lightning flickered past—it seemed rain was coming.

Luoshen waited a while longer before finally turning to go back inside.

She stood in the outer room, looking around, thinking he might have left her some note. Searching on the desk, her gaze suddenly fixed on the shelf beside the qin table.

The shelf held musical scores. Besides ancient scattered pieces she had collected from various sources, there were also some scores she herself had composed over the years.

She was someone who cherished the past—all her musical scores, including the initial drafts of her compositions, had never been thrown away but were stored by date in neat stacks.

But at this moment, the musical scores in that shelf had obviously been rifled through. Several were lying messily on top, not put back properly.

Luoshen hurried over and picked up those scores, opening them to discover they included drafts from several years ago—pieces she had composed and then exchanged with Lu Jianzhi for discussion. Besides her own compositional feelings at the time, they also contained his commentary in response. Later, when organizing them, she had stored them by date at the bottom and hadn’t touched them since.

Now brought out, due to the passage of years, the paper had already yellowed somewhat. But the ink marks on them were still clear as ever.

Luoshen was stunned.

Very obviously, it must have been Li Mu who had found these old musical scores of hers.

She stared fixedly at these old drafts, and suddenly an uneasy feeling surged in her heart.

Earlier when he left without saying a word to her, could it be because he had inadvertently discovered these old exchanges between her and Lu Jianzhi? Was he displeased?

She also thought of how in the few days since returning to Jiankang, he had seemed different from before.

She couldn’t help but become flustered and anxious. Looking out at the pitch-black night sky that threatened rain, she felt secretly worried, hoping he would return soon so she could explain to him.

…

Xu Ying had once been the most famous musician in the palace. Due to his advanced age and poor health, several years ago he had been allowed to leave the palace and live in a cramped courtyard in Tongxia Ward in the south of the city. Fortunately, he still had some reputation and could make a living by teaching disciples and courtesans. Tonight, having nothing to do, he had already gone to sleep when his old servant woke him, saying a visitor had come seeking him and was very generous with money.

The old musician hurriedly got up and went out to greet him.

Outside, a night wind had risen, swaying the crown of an old tree in the courtyard with rustling sounds. Lightning kept flashing on the horizon—it was about to rain.

He saw a tall man standing in the courtyard, his robes fluttering in the wind, his features hidden in the darkness. Knowing this was the wealthy guest, he hurried forward and bowed, inviting him inside to talk.

The man didn’t move, only asking: “I’ve heard that music can convey emotions. Can you interpret their meaning?”

Xu Ying was startled, then relaxed, hastily saying: “Naturally. I’ve been immersed in this for half a lifetime—whatever music there is, I can understand the meaning behind the strings.”

“Excellent. I have a piece—I trouble you to interpret it.”

The man spoke slowly, taking a score from his robes and handing it over.