Xu Ying invited the guest into the qin room, where the two sat facing each other across the qin table.

The courtyard was dark, and he hadn’t been able to see the other’s face clearly before. Now by lamplight, he observed that the man was quite young, his clothing ordinary and unremarkable, yet he possessed a heroic and distinguished bearing with extraordinary presence—clearly no mediocre person, and certainly someone of importance.

However, he didn’t know why, though the man sat with natural dignity after taking his seat, there seemed to be hidden melancholy between his brows, as if he was weighed down by heavy thoughts.

In the years since leaving the palace, all sorts of visitors had come here—those learning music, seeking scores, coming to hear the qin out of admiration, or requesting him to play at banquets for entertainment. People came in all forms with various emotions, joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness. He had even seen the absurd and strange. Not daring to stare, after a few glances he withdrew his gaze and carefully opened the musical score the man had just handed him.

Before even looking at the music, he immediately recognized the paper. This score was written on imperial tribute celadon powder paper—smooth and lustrous, the finest quality paper. Aside from the imperial palace, such precious paper could only be found in the studies of high officials and nobles.

Xu Ying glanced again at the man across from him, seeing that after taking his seat, he hadn’t spoken a word and was now staring at the musical score before him. Hastily looking again, he saw the handwriting was beautiful and graceful, flowing and spirited, with the ethereal quality of celestial dew and bright pearls—clearly from a woman’s hand.

Xu Ying looked once more at the man across from him and immediately formed his own judgment.

Deep in the night, a young man of concealed identity and troubled mind had come seeking him to interpret a score. The composer was obviously a well-born young lady from a distinguished family. What unspeakable secrets lay within this situation required no questioning—it was obvious at a glance.

Having spent many years in the palace, he had long learned to read expressions and observe people. After leaving the palace, to make a living, he had become even more skilled at dealing with visitors, understanding people’s hearts, choosing every word to please them.

Having determined that both this young man and the woman who had given the score were of extraordinary status, and seeing the man’s apparent inner turmoil, he assumed this was someone troubled by love, caught in an unspeakable romantic affair. The woman’s gift of the score was naturally connected to lovesick longing—moreover, during his palace days, he had often heard of the private romantic scandals among the men and women of Jiankang’s great families, so such things were nothing new to him.

Tonight, such a visitor had suddenly arrived and was so generous with money. Knowing what to say and how to please him, he naturally understood perfectly. Thus, concentrating his spirit, he used the score to first play the opening passage. After finishing one section, feeling the melody was ethereal and clear, with rhythms like the sound of clear jade pendants, he stopped and looked at the man across from him, praising: “Composing music is like writing poetry—either to sing of things and express aspirations, or to borrow melody to voice one’s feelings. This score is clearly written to express inner feelings. Just from the opening, I can determine that the composer deeply understands musical theory. Such wonderful music is rarely found.”

After speaking, he saw the man’s brow relax in a smile, his expression seeming to show approval of these words, further confirming his earlier thoughts.

This man must harbor romantic feelings for the woman who composed this score.

The old musician smiled and said: “This was the opening chapter—let me continue playing.”

He played another section according to the score. Hearing the harmonious melody, he spoke casually: “This section is like bright spring light, with orioles singing among flowers, tender and intimate whispers—it should represent the innocent private words of young lovers.”

Outside the window came a sudden sound of rain drumming on the eaves. Night rain had begun.

He gradually became immersed in the melody himself, not paying much attention as the man quietly rose and stood by the window, his back turned to watch the night rain. Gradually feeling the melody turn heavy with melancholy, moved by the scene, he sighed: “A lone wild goose cries beyond the clouds, night rain drips before the steps. This sorrowful longing born of lovesickness—hearing it is heartbreaking.”

In the solitary lamplight and night rain, the man faced the window, his back figure lonely.

The old musician played on. The melody suddenly changed to become grand and passionate, like a warrior charging onto the battlefield. The qin strings rang out clearly, and he couldn’t help but become intoxicated, closing his eyes and sighing: “The shang notes ring bright and clear, the yu notes are bitter. Nüwa smelting stones to mend the sky—this section means love stronger than gold, surging against the waves. How could lovers not have their hearts and souls stirred, their blood boiling with passion?”

The qin music gradually returned to the initial light and clear tone, but compared to the opening, the rhythm was vast and distant—upon hearing it, one felt the breadth of heaven and earth, wind through myriad valleys and pines, the heart cleansed by flowing water.

The old musician became completely intoxicated by the musical realm, his fingers drawing out the final long trailing note. In the lingering string resonance that seemed to circle the beams endlessly, he closed his eyes for a long time.

Finally, he let out a long sigh: “This gentleman, though the music ends, lingering emotions remain, and the future stretches long. You should follow what this qin language says—release your worries, broaden your heart. Heaven shows mercy, and one day, you will surely achieve your heart’s desire…”

After a long while, hearing no response, he opened his eyes.

A night wind mixed with rain suddenly rushed through the half-open door, making the door bang against the wall and causing the candlelight to flicker unsteadily.

The room was already empty.

Gold coins remained on the corner of the table, but the man from before, along with the musical score that had been on the qin table, had disappeared without anyone knowing when.

…

The night rain poured down torrentially. It was already the third watch, yet Li Mu still hadn’t returned, nor had he sent word of where he had gone.

Luoshen stood at the window in her robe, looking out at the pitch-black scene of pelting rain. Her emotions had changed from initial unease to extreme anxiety.

This was truly too abnormal.

Jiankang was a city where all sorts of people mingled, and he was now the focus of everyone’s attention. The Xu and Lu families must surely harbor hatred toward him. Remembering the scene of Lu Huanzhi’s street provocation that day, Luoshen’s heart suddenly began racing.

She had known Lu Huanzhi since childhood. If it were just him alone, she didn’t think he could cause Li Mu any serious trouble.

But Lu Huanzhi wasn’t just one person.

Behind him was the Lu family, or perhaps others who, like him, bore malice toward Li Mu.

Could something really have happened to him?

Luoshen was startled by this sudden thought. Her heart burning with anxiety, she could wait no longer and immediately called for someone to bring rain gear.

She couldn’t wait until dawn. She wanted to go wake her parents immediately and have them send people to search everywhere.

A servant woman hurried to fetch rain gear, and Luoshen had already dressed. Qiongshu led the way with a wind-resistant lantern. As she stepped over the threshold, about to go to her parents, she suddenly heard a servant woman cry out joyfully: “Li Langjun has returned!”

Luoshen had already heard footsteps. She quickly looked up. Indeed, a figure appeared at the courtyard entrance, crossing through the dark curtain of rain, stepping through splashing puddles on the ground, walking toward her.

Without needing to see his face, Luoshen immediately recognized that familiar figure—it was Li Mu. She immediately let out a long breath of relief. Seeing him already stepping up onto the covered walkway, having neither umbrella nor rain cape, not even wearing a rain hat, his entire body soaked through from head to foot, she felt both surprised and heartbroken. Hurrying forward, just about to call to him, she saw the lamplight under the corridor illuminate a rigid face glistening wetly.

His expression was blank, as if he hadn’t seen her at all. He actually walked past her and went straight through the door.

Luoshen knew he had clearly seen her.

After being married to him for so long, this was the first time she had been so ignored by him.

Luoshen’s gaze followed his back, watching him disappear behind the door, her steps frozen in place.

The joy she had felt at his return vanished.

Because her mother was pregnant, Luoshen had sent A’Ju back to care for her. But the servant woman and Qiongshu beside her had both followed her from Jiankang to Yi Cheng and back here.

Obviously, they too were puzzled by Li Mu’s abnormal behavior, looking at each other with concern, then at Luoshen.

Luoshen came to her senses, quietly instructing everyone to disperse and not follow to serve, then she too entered the room.

She gently closed the door and turned around. A wet trail stretched from the doorway all the way to the inner chamber.

Luoshen went in and saw him with his back to her, silently removing his clothes. His whole person looked as if he had just been pulled from water, even the roots of his hair continuously dripping.

His back figure was heavy, so heavy it seemed to press down on everything around him, making even her breathing difficult.

Luoshen had never seen him like this.

Never.

His back silhouette, which she had known so well, now seemed so strange. The feeling of silence that rejected people from a thousand li away even made her feel somewhat afraid.

She wondered—could it be that because those few musical score drafts had brought up Lu Jianzhi, and these past few days, because of Lu Huanzhi, she had mentioned Lu Jianzhi several times, that he was truly angry about this?

After hesitating, she continued walking toward him, coming behind him. Using a tone that tried to sound as normal as possible, she spoke gently: “Langjun, where did you go tonight? The rain outside was so heavy, I was very worried and couldn’t sleep. I was just about to go call A’Ye and A’Niang…”

As she spoke, she reached out to take the belt he had just untied. But she didn’t receive it—he put it down himself.

Luoshen’s hand stopped in mid-air. Startled, she slowly drew it back, forcing herself to say: “Then you should bathe first. Water was prepared for you earlier…”

Li Mu still said nothing, taking clean clothes himself and leaving her to go to the bathing room.

Luoshen stood frozen, staring blankly for a moment. Suppressing the feeling of abandonment welling up in her heart, she wiped her already reddening eyes and followed him to outside the bathing room.

The hidden worry that had troubled her all night surfaced again.

Originally she had only guessed that those few drafts recording her past exchanges with Lu Jianzhi had caused trouble.

At this moment, she was certain.

Because of the drafts, and because of the incident Lu Huanzhi had provoked on the street that day after their return, plus her own carelessness and negligence, Li Mu had misunderstood.

He was truly angry with her.

But what surprised her was that his reaction would be so severe.

This she truly hadn’t anticipated.

She waited outside for a moment, hearing no sound from him, then went in to find him leaning against the bathing tub, looking tired with his eyes closed and motionless, as if he had already fallen asleep.

She knew he wasn’t asleep. Gathering her courage, she came behind him, rolled up her sleeves, fished out the cloth floating in the water, and slowly wiped his back, asking softly: “Langjun, are you angry with me?”

He didn’t respond or move.

Luoshen continued wiping his body.

“Those few musical scores are all from long ago—you can see for yourself, the paper has yellowed.”

“Langjun, you know that I’ve known Elder Brother Lu since childhood. He also understands music, so when I composed pieces, I would sometimes send them to him for his comments. At that time I didn’t know Langjun yet.”

“As for why the drafts are still stored in my room, it’s not because I’m nostalgic about the past. I’ve always had the habit of collecting things. The drafts have been there so long that I forgot about them myself, so I never put them away…”

“Tonight I put them all away, completely clean! If you don’t believe me, you can go look for yourself…”

He still had no reaction.

Unease welled up in her heart again.

She blinked her stinging eyes and continued: “Langjun, sometimes when I speak well of Elder Brother Lu in front of you, it doesn’t mean I think you’re not good. I blame myself for being too careless. Langjun is an upstanding man who treats A’Mi so well. In A’Mi’s heart, there is only Langjun…”

She dropped the cloth, not caring that the water on his body would wet her clothes. Her jade arms reached around from behind, tightly embracing his shoulders and neck, her palms pressed against his chest, her face also pressed close, lips gently kissing his earlobe, intimately nuzzling against him as she pleaded softly: “Langjun, A’Mi only loves you alone. If A’Mi has done something wrong somewhere that makes you angry, just tell me. I will change. Please don’t misunderstand A’Mi, and don’t be angry with A’Mi, all right?”

How could he not hear that behind him, her soft words clearly carried a hidden sob she was trying to suppress?

He felt that soft, warm body pressing against his rain-chilled skin that was cold to the bone, his ear brushed lightly by her lips.

A shiver of goosebumps rose from the neck and shoulder skin where she touched him.

He felt his hair standing on end, quickly spreading downward throughout his limbs submerged in the water.

That small hand again consolingly stroked across his chest.

His covered eyelashes trembled once as he raised his hand and pressed down on the hand wandering across his chest.

“Langjun, please…”

She paused.

Her soft voice reached his ear again.

Li Mu opened his eyes. With a splash, he stood up from the water, stepped out of the tub in one stride, swept her up in his arms, left the bathing room, and pressed her onto the bed.

He had finally forgiven her unintentional mistake!

The moment he pressed down on her, Luoshen felt complete relief and joy, gently welcoming his demands.

But soon, she sensed something was wrong.

Not only did he hurt her again, his treatment of her was extremely rough. Eyes red, face fierce like a wild beast, he said nothing as he pinned her beneath him, using every means to tormentingly ravage her.

Luoshen began to feel afraid, and even more confused and wronged.

She truly didn’t understand.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t know about the past relationship between the Gao and Lu families. She and Lu Jianzhi were also from the past.

Why was he so obsessed with this?

Tonight, from learning of his departure without word, the fear and helplessness that had surrounded her gradually overwhelmed her.

She began to struggle, resist, fight back with all her strength, but that bit of force before him was not only as tiny as an ant, unable to shake this giant tree even slightly, but actually provoked even wilder treatment from him.

She gave up resisting, letting him manipulate her as he pleased. When she was forcibly pressed against the edge of the bed, forced to arch her body to receive him, tears finally could no longer be controlled, rolling from eyes already red from holding back, down a face flushed with shame, burying tightly in the bedding as she cried silently.

She bit her lip hard, trying to endure, but the tears only increased, making her shoulders shake convulsively. If not for his hand still gripping her waist from behind, holding her up, she would have collapsed long ago.

Tears quickly soaked the bedding beneath her face.

The night rain continued its fierce drumming, pattering on the banana leaves in the courtyard outside the window.

Suddenly, he slowed down until he stopped, slowly releasing his five fingers from that sweat-slicked waist, leaving her and turning to lie on his back beside her, breathing heavily.

Having lost his support, her body immediately went limp, collapsing powerlessly on the bed, only her snow-white shoulders covered with disheveled black hair trembling like a jade butterfly with broken wings.

Li Mu raised his arm, pressing it tightly over his face. After a moment, as his breathing gradually calmed, he said: “I’ll return to Yi Cheng in the next couple of days. Prepare yourself to come with me.” After speaking, he got up from the bed, put his clothes back on, and left the inner chamber.

The Gao family’s servant women and maids had all long since gone to sleep. The outer room had no lamp and was pitch black. Li Mu sat on the threshold, facing the curtain of rain in the dark courtyard, watching the waterfall-like columns of water falling from the eaves, his figure motionless.

Rain threads carried by wind continuously drifted in from beyond the eaves, falling on his face like fine hairs.

The cold, damp wind of the latter half of the night finally cooled his forehead that had been burning like fire.

Before his eyes appeared the scene from moments before—her helpless, fearful appearance as she endured crying under his merciless treatment. All the terrible mood that had accumulated this night suddenly transformed into deep self-loathing.

He regretted why he had been so foolish as to seek someone to interpret the musical score for him.

If he hadn’t heard that musician’s interpretation, he could have told himself that everything was just Lu Huanzhi’s malicious slander.

Even if she and Lu Jianzhi, who was far away in Jiaozhou at the time, had exchanged letters, it was merely old friends corresponding with each other, like Boya and Zhong Qi, having nothing to do with romance.

Then the matter could have simply passed.

But he couldn’t achieve such magnanimity. There was a thorn stuck in his heart that couldn’t be removed.

He remembered clearly that just before she sent this musical score to Lu Jianzhi, the two of them had only recently consummated their marriage and were in the tender, sweet phase of their relationship.

Behind him, she had experienced a life-and-death struggle together with him, even killing someone for his sake.

She had also accompanied him to climb mountains and observe the spring tide at night.

That spring river night, with flowers and moon hazy, waves flowing eastward. Beneath their feet, the river shore surged with the most magnificent tide he had ever seen in his life, and above their heads was the most moving hazy moonlight. She leaned against his side, gazing toward the north of the river, listening to fishermen’s songs with him, facing the river wind together.

At that moment, without vows, it was better than vows. He thought that even on the day he died of old age, he would not forget that spring river moonlit night spent with her.

Yet, not long after that night passed, she was forcibly taken from his side by her father, and afterwards came this musical score she sent to Lu Jianzhi far away in Jiaozhou.

Perhaps it was precisely this that made it stick in his throat, impossible to let go.

When he first returned tonight, he could have asked her directly, sought confirmation from her.

But he actually lacked the courage to face her directly, instead seeking someone to interpret the score for him.

He had hoped someone could prove to him that her past with Lu Jianzhi was truly completely severed, no longer having anything to do with romance.

But hope was indeed ruthlessly shattered.

With a “crash,” the banana plants in the courtyard suddenly broke under a gust of wind, helplessly collapsing to the ground.

A thin, suppressed sobbing sound reached his ears faintly amid the rapid rustling of rain beating on banana leaves.

Accompanying that intermittent sobbing, before his eyes seemed to appear again the scene from moments before—her stopping her struggles, fearful and helpless, silently shedding tears.

Li Mu felt his heart seemed to have been soaked through by this endless pattering night rain, inside and out, and no matter what method was used, it could never be wrung dry again.

He closed his eyes, raised his hand to wipe away the layer of moist mist on his face, rose from the threshold, and following that heartbroken sobbing sound, slowly returned to her side.

He stood before the bed, borrowing the few remaining inches of weak, dim firelight from the bedside lamp to silently gaze at her.

The bed was in complete disarray. She still remained as she had been when he left—lying there, her body curled into a ball, revealing a delicate, slightly trembling expanse of snow-white back. The bedding beneath her face was stained with tears.

Hearing his returning footsteps, she immediately stopped sobbing.

Li Mu leaned over, tentatively reaching out his hand to gently touch her.

“A’Mi… I was wrong just now… I’m a bastard…”

His voice was hoarse.

She curled her body even tighter.

His fingertips touched her, feeling her body both wet and cold.

Li Mu immediately climbed onto the bed, lifted her tear-stained face from the bedding, wiped away her tears, and tried to take her into his arms.

She kept her already swollen eyes from crying tightly closed, constantly shrinking inward, always avoiding his hands, not letting him touch her, until she had shrunk to the innermost side of the bed with nowhere left to go, finally being drawn back into his embrace.

Li Mu wrapped her body in the quilt, holding her like a frightened child, continuously kissing her and whispering comfort in her ear.

“I’m truly a bastard. Please forgive me…”

He kept begging her to forgive his earlier behavior.

Luoshen initially kept struggling, but gradually, as if she had no strength left, she curled in his arms with closed eyes, silently crying. Suddenly she reached out, tightly embracing his waist, burying her face in his chest, and sobbed: “Was Langjun angry with me tonight because of Elder Brother Lu? I truly only love Langjun alone in my heart. How could Langjun treat me so cruelly?”

Just at the moment when she reached out to embrace him again, the terrible mood that had tormented Li Mu for almost the entire night suddenly slowly receded.

He felt himself suddenly relieved as well.

Let it pass like this—no need to continue obsessing over this musical score she had written more than a year ago.

If things had already changed with time, even if she had been thinking of Lu Jianzhi then, now was no longer the state of mind she had when composing that piece. If she truly was as she said, loving only him, why should he bind himself in a cocoon, refusing to forgive either her or himself?

And if, in the depths of her heart, she still secretly thought of Lu Jianzhi—that husband for whom she had kept vigil for many years in her previous life, her first love in this life—that too was natural human emotion. After all, it was he who had forced her to marry him against her will in the first place. Now he was forcing her like this again. What was he?

She had already been good enough to him. In this lifetime, as long as she had him in her heart and was willing to stay by his side like this, why should he be obsessed with other people or matters?

“I know, I know… I’m the bastard…”

Li Mu’s eyes reddened as he held her even tighter, randomly kissing her swollen eyelids, continuously cursing himself.

Luoshen’s heart, which had been crying itself to pieces, finally slowly recovered under her husband’s gentle comfort and self-reproach.

She obediently curled in Li Mu’s arms, saying softly: “Langjun, since returning, I’ve known you were somewhat unhappy. What’s really wrong with you?”

After asking, she heard no answer for a long time. Opening her eyes, she gazed at him: “Langjun?”

Li Mu finally said: “A’Mi, I don’t like this imperial city.”

His voice was hoarse, his tone heavy.

Luoshen immediately said: “I’ll listen to you! I don’t want to stay here either!”

Li Mu gazed at her, raised his hand to wipe away a teardrop still clinging to the corner of her eye, lowered his head to kiss her mouth, and lay down with her, their heads together.

Outside the window, the night rain gradually lessened and at some point quietly stopped.