Aside from Jun Beiyue, who had been granted his princely title, all the other imperial princes still lived within the palace, and the Eastern Palace remained empty to this day.
The Tenth Prince’s Xuanzhen Palace was famously extravagant—even Yiqing Palace couldn’t compare to it. Among Emperor Tianhui’s many sons, this simple-minded Jun Beishen, who never engaged in scheming or power struggles, was actually the one who was truly favored.
The specially built Music Hall was a massive eight-sided pavilion, its four sides draped with hanging white gauze curtains, giving it a unique charm. Lige had already gone ahead to prepare.
As Ziqing climbed the steps with the two princes, she asked along the way, “This Young Master Lige is…”
“Ha, you really haven’t heard of him, have you? He’s the master of the Blood Zither!” the Tenth Prince said proudly.
The Blood Zither!
Ziqing drew in a soft breath—now she remembered who Lige was!
Xuanyuan Lige! He was the greatest zither master under heaven, the only musician in the world capable of mastering the demonic instrument known as the Blood Zither. No one knew his origins; all anyone knew was that his skill was exquisite, almost supernatural.
He belonged to no nation, no guild of musicians. He came and went as he pleased, his whereabouts always uncertain. Though he made his living by playing, he only played when the mood struck him—if he was happy, he’d play for free; if not, no amount of gold could move him.
Ziqing feigned confusion. “The Blood Zither is…”
“You really don’t know?” the Seventh Prince asked.
Ziqing found the question strange, but she simply shook her head.
“The Blood Zither is also called the Demon Zither—a blood-colored guqin. Legend says it was dug up from an ancient battlefield, stained crimson by the blood of countless soldiers, carrying within it the souls of a myriad of the fallen. If the musician lacks the ability to master it, the instrument will consume him instead. No matter how joyful the tune played upon it, it always turns to a mournful, terrifying dirge…”
Before the Seventh Prince could finish, the Tenth Prince cut in eagerly, “But if the musician does have the skill to master it, the very same tune played on this demonic zither produces an entirely different effect. You’ll see for yourself soon enough.”
Ziqing smiled faintly. “Tenth Prince, you truly have skill, to be able to invite such a figure. If His Majesty knew, he would surely be delighted.”
Ziqing could guess why—the autumn hunt was approaching, and envoys from the Chu Kingdom would be arriving soon. If the Tenth Prince could bring someone like Lige to perform for Emperor Tianhui, it would bring great honor to Da Zhou at the banquet.
The Tenth Prince grinned slyly. “Fourth Sister-in-law, you’re so clever. This matter is known only to heaven, earth, and the three of us—you mustn’t breathe a word of it! I just want to surprise Father Emperor.”
“Rest assured, Tenth Prince. Ziqing is fortunate to have heard of this first, and I certainly won’t say a word to ruin your grand plan,” Ziqing said politely.
“Heh, Fourth Sister-in-law, no need to be so formal. Just call him Tenth Brother and me Seventh Brother—none of this ‘prince’ business, it’s far too stiff!” the Seventh Prince said with a laugh.
Ziqing smiled shyly but said nothing further—after all, they weren’t especially close, were they?
Just as they were speaking, Xuanyuan Lige appeared, slowly climbing the steps from another direction, cradling a blood-red ancient zither in his arms. His purple robes and silver hair fluttered in the wind, the blood-colored instrument silent against his chest, his otherworldly face cold and still. Such a person stood right before her, and yet Ziqing felt as though he were impossibly distant, as if he existed somewhere far beyond the clouds.
The blood-red zither was placed upon a flawless white jade stand. Seen from a distance, its slender, elegant body looked like a streak of fresh blood, evoking a desolate, tragic feeling.
“A Song of Parting Sorrow, to win my lady a smile,” he said quietly, his voice cool and clear.
Ziqing was puzzled—if it was a song of sorrow, why would it bring a smile?
She was about to ask when she saw his slender, pale fingers press gently down upon the strings, and she fell silent. Along with the Tenth and Seventh Princes, her heart began pounding inexplicably, filled with an unaccountable tension.
Today, what kind of song of parting sorrow would he play for them?
But just then, a servant’s anxious voice suddenly rang out. “Master, it’s bad news—Prince Yao has come looking for you!”
At these words, Jun Beishen gave a violent start and tumbled right off his chair. “Quick! Hide, everyone hide!”