This marked the first time since Ziqing had begun playing Lishang that she found herself so utterly distracted—forget being drawn helplessly into the music’s spell, she couldn’t even manage to stay focused on the piece at all!

Frowning, she played straight through all thirty scrolls, then pressed both hands down firmly on the strings, her expression one of pure shock!

There was something missing from this score!

Had Ziqing never heard the roar of the waves within the Sea Valley—that surging, powerful climax—she would have played these thirty scrolls with exactly the same sensation as the thirty scrolls before them, assuming it was a complete piece, faithfully rendered exactly as written on the score. Yet no matter how she listened to it, something felt off, utterly disconnected from the rest of Lishang as a whole!

But having heard the sound of the waves in the Sea Valley, someone as sharp as Ziqing immediately sensed something was wrong!

This score appeared complete, and played out as though complete—yet in reality, several notes were missing!

The roar of the sea within the valley, after all, hadn’t been produced by any qin strings—there would inevitably be some discrepancy in how one perceived it by ear. And it was precisely this handful of discrepant notes that had kept even Xuanyuan Lige from noticing the score was missing several notes, mistaking the sea’s rhythm as perfectly matching the score’s own.

The moment she uncovered this secret, Ziqing’s heart couldn’t help but pound wildly. Just who was the composer of Lishang, to possess such extraordinary skill?

These discrepancies had clearly been left out deliberately!

Otherwise, someone would surely have noticed long before now!

But why leave out these particular notes? And why would the Sea Valley contain the complete version of the piece?

What secret was he trying to convey to future generations by leaving behind Lishang? What kind of Lonely Isle lineage was hidden within this very piece of music?

And which exact notes had been left out?

As gifted as Ziqing was, her skill on the qin had its limits—she excelled at fingering technique, not at musical theory itself. She had to admit that no matter how carefully she studied the score, she simply couldn’t work out which notes had been omitted!

The rhythm of the waves in the Sea Valley bore such a striking resemblance to this score—had it not been embedded within the whole of Lishang, she might never have discovered this secret in her entire lifetime.

She examined it again and again, puzzling over it repeatedly, caught between excitement and mounting anxiety. She was just about to touch the strings again when she suddenly stopped, struck by a sudden memory!

She hurriedly retrieved a fragment of musical notation she’d kept hidden on her person all this while—though calling it a “score” would be generous; it amounted to no more than a single short phrase, just a handful of notes.

This was what Ziqing had secretly memorized while at the Sea Valley within Qinse Valley—the musical symbols carved into that peculiar ring of stone benches surrounding the sea pool.

There were exactly twelve symbols in total—six recorded in “abbreviated notation,” and six more in “gongche notation.”

She’d secretly committed them to memory and written them down afterward. Played aloud, the twelve notes carried no discernible meaning whatsoever—just discordant noise, disconnected and incoherent.

She hadn’t given the matter much further thought at the time—but now, thinking it over again, could the missing notes in the score somehow be connected to these very stone benches?

Ziqing had never actually asked the two elders of Qinse Valley about the benches themselves—but judging purely by the craftsmanship, they had clearly existed for a very long time indeed.

She compared the notes repeatedly, back and forth, having Hongyi bring her paper and brush. Yet after puzzling over it for a long while, she found that not a single one of the twelve notes fit anywhere into the score of Lishang!

Had her suspicion been wrong all along, or was this simply beyond her own ability to work out?

Still, one thing was certain: whoever had composed Lishang must have drawn inspiration from the natural roar of the sea within Qinse Valley’s Sea Valley before writing the piece!

Because the copy in Ziqing’s possession was, after all, the original manuscript—it bore numerous marks of revision throughout, yet the climax section alone showed no signs of correction whatsoever!

Whoever had composed the piece must have listened to the sound of the waves, and only then set down the climax—and had, quite deliberately, already decided in advance which notes to leave out!

The realization struck Ziqing with sudden urgency. Hongyi, noticing her animated expression, couldn’t help but ask, “My lady, what have you discovered? Why are you so anxious all of a sudden?”

Ziqing paid her no mind, hurriedly flipping through the entire hundred-odd chapters that made up the climax section with intense focus. She’d read through it repeatedly before, having noticed certain things, but had never paid them particularly close attention!

Only now, examining these hundred-odd chapters in earnest, did she realize something startling—not only were the thirty scrolls she’d heard in the Sea Valley free of any revision marks, but the entire climax section, all hundred-odd chapters of it, bore no corrections whatsoever!

Could it be…

At this realization, Ziqing slammed her hand down on the table at once. Her first instinct was to share this discovery with Jun Beiyue—only to turn and find, to her disappointment, that he wasn’t sitting beside her at all.

“My lady, whatever is the matter with you?” Hongyi asked timidly.

“Could it be that this entire hundred-chapter climax was written in a single burst of inspiration—something that, like the Sea Valley itself, preserves the most original, unaltered sound?” Ziqing murmured to herself.

“My lady… this servant doesn’t understand at all!” Hongyi said timidly once more.

“Whatever’s missing from these hundred chapters is the true secret of Lishang—and quite possibly, the secret of the Lonely Isle itself,” Ziqing said, lowering her voice.

Hongyi still didn’t understand any of it. She knew a fair amount, admittedly, but had never seriously pondered such matters before. Shiliang, by contrast, occasionally asked her questions about such things, though she’d never told him anything.

Hongyi had been raised as a maidservant within the princely household from a young age, well versed in the proper etiquette of servitude. Shiliang was different—a street beggar by origin, and anyone who could survive such harsh circumstances, whatever their temperament, was never simple.

Ziqing hadn’t really been speaking to Hongyi at all—she’d simply been so overwhelmed with excitement that she’d spoken her thoughts aloud without meaning to. In moments like these—moments of joyous discovery, or moments of unbearable hardship—she found herself wishing, more than anything, that Jun Beiyue were there.

“My lady, you haven’t rested at all today. Why don’t you take a break? I’ll go get you something to eat!” Hongyi urged. Only then did Ziqing snap back to herself, letting out a deep breath of relief, and offering Hongyi a bright smile.

Hongyi, still somewhat puzzled, quickly withdrew. But no sooner had she stepped out the door than she happened upon Physician Gu dragging Yingzi urgently around a corner down the hallway, the two of them apparently caught in some kind of dispute.

Curious, Hongyi hesitated a moment before cautiously approaching, intending to intervene—but the moment she caught a certain name, she froze in her tracks!

“So my lord really did bring Shiliang along with him?”

“Her Highness the Consort mustn’t find out about this—whatever you do, don’t say a word!”

“No, no, this won’t do—Her Highness will surely be heartbroken if she finds out! That girl Shiliang… sigh!”

“They’ve already gone to the Poison Den together. In a few more days, she should be brought to the royal capital as well!”

“And how is he supposed to explain that to Her Highness?”

“Just say she’s a maidservant, kept close by his side to attend to him—it’ll sound perfectly reasonable!”

“This is Nanzhao, not anywhere else—you can’t just bring in whoever you please. There’s a limit to how many attendants are allowed!”

“Then swap her out for Hongyi, Physician Gu. Whatever arrangements my lord makes are his own business—no need for you to worry about it.”

…

The longer Hongyi listened, the more her expression stiffened. Fortunately, Yingzi was too absorbed in arguing with Physician Gu to notice her. Her lips trembling uncontrollably, she quickly turned and fled in a panic.

Heavens, what secret had she just stumbled upon?