Xuanyuan Lige had no interest in the grudge between Jun Beiyao and Han Ziqing, nor did he concern himself with the matter of the “nation-toppling beauty” — because the opportunity he’d waited so many years for was finally at hand.
It was the one thing he had devoted his entire life to accomplishing.
Jun Beiyao glanced toward the dim cave but didn’t follow him in. The Court of Judicial Review had recently begun investigating him — undoubtedly Han Ziqing’s doing! Even without going through her directly, he could still uncover the secret of the “nation-toppling beauty” some other way.
Best that this woman not hold anything over him.
A flicker of malice crossed his eyes at the thought, and he left at once.
Deep within the dim cave, Ziqing lay quietly on a bed of straw, her body filthy and disheveled, what skin was exposed carefully covered by a spotless white robe.
Her pale, small face looked almost like she was merely sleeping, quiet and beautiful.
Xuanyuan Lige settled down silently beside her, unconsciously studying her face closely. Her features owed far more to her mother’s beauty than to Chancellor Han’s — there was little resemblance at all.
Her birth mother had once been a renowned beauty at the capital’s music halls, surnamed Mu, given name Ci. All that was known was that she wasn’t originally from the capital of Great Zhou — her true origins remained untraceable.
As Xuanyuan Lige pondered this, his handsome brow suddenly furrowed. He seemed to notice something on Ziqing’s face, leaning in closer to examine it carefully.
Whether it was simply dirt or something else, he couldn’t quite tell. Curious, he reached out cautiously.
But the instant his hand touched her face—
In that very instant, Ziqing’s eyes snapped open. Xuanyuan Lige froze, and in the next moment his hand was slapped away sharply.
Ziqing sat up, immediately on guard, her voice cold. “Xuanyuan Lige!”
So it really was him — the white-robed master who’d taken her, was Xuanyuan Lige after all!
This frail-seeming zither master — how could his hands hold such terrifying power, capable of snapping a wind blade into existence with a mere flick of his fingers?
“I’m glad you still remember me,” Xuanyuan Lige said flatly.
“Why did you take me?” Ziqing shot back coldly, getting straight to the point. Though her strength hadn’t fully returned, her mind was sharp and clear. A zither master who’d concealed his true strength while embedded within the Great Zhou imperial court, and who now dared to reveal his true face to her — what did he want from her?
“You’re clever. Why not learn the zither from me?”
Xuanyuan Lige smiled, sitting cross-legged, placing the Blood Zither across his lap and playing a gentle melody. The ethereal sound echoed off the cave walls, forming an unexpectedly beautiful layered resonance.
For a moment, Ziqing found herself sinking into the world of the music. As the ethereal notes washed over her, the tension that had gripped her body began, bit by bit, to loosen. She felt as though she were drifting through some deep mountain valley, growing steadily more insubstantial, more distant from herself…
Then, inexplicably, she gave a sudden jolt and snapped back to full awareness — some instinctive resistance to this feeling seemed to be hardwired into her. The moment she came to, she was struck with alarm — this was a bewitching sound meant to ensnare! Xuanyuan Lige had very nearly stolen her soul!
Her eyes hardened. Without warning, she slammed her hand down on Xuanyuan Lige’s Blood Zither, gripping the strings so suddenly that even he was caught off guard.
“Who exactly are you? Tell me now, or I’ll destroy this zither of yours!”
But Xuanyuan Lige showed no alarm at all, instead breaking into a smile. “Princess of Prince Yao, come with me to my homeland for a while. Once we’re there, you’ll understand everything. One month’s time — after that month, I’ll pass everything I’ve learned in my lifetime on to you.”
But Ziqing abruptly yanked at the strings, snorting coldly, “And if I refuse?”
With that, she pulled harder — only to find, to her shock, that she couldn’t even snap two measly strings!
She looked up sharply at Xuanyuan Lige, only to find his clear eyes still carrying that faint, gentle smile, his voice betraying not the slightest trace of malice. And yet his words were chilling enough to send a shiver down anyone’s spine. “Whether you’re willing or not, you’re willing. Even as a corpse, you’re coming with me.”
He said nothing more, made no visible movement — only a low, ringing “zheng” sound, and Ziqing immediately released her grip, her palm now marked with two long, thin cuts, pale and bloodless. Looking again at the two strings, she saw them stained crimson with blood.
Ziqing drew a sharp breath, finally witnessing firsthand the terrifying power of the demon zither known as the Blood Zither. Just who was this man, really? Where was his homeland, and why did he insist on taking her there?
“Why me? Are you targeting Jun Beiyue?” Ziqing probed carefully. Everything that had happened to her seemed rooted in this title of Princess of Prince Yao — she’d clearly underestimated just how many enemies Jun Beiyue had made.
The chaos in the capital should have settled by now — was that man out there searching for her everywhere?
“No,” Xuanyuan Lige answered.
Ziqing wasn’t about to take that at face value, and was about to press further when Xuanyuan Lige generously handed her the Blood Zither. “I’ll teach you a technique.”
With that, without waiting for her consent, he took her hand and gently pressed it against the strings.
Ziqing was about to ask something, but seeing this man was clearly determined not to discuss much further, he said flatly, “Princess of Prince Yao. Watch my hands.”
Seeing how serious he looked, an idea struck Ziqing. “Young Master Xuanyuan, how about this — I’ll go with you, and I’ll learn from you. For every piece I master, you answer one question of mine. The difficulty of the pieces, you decide. How does that sound?”
Ziqing had expected him to hesitate, but Xuanyuan Lige agreed at once without a moment’s thought. “Good. Learn this technique first — from now on, every piece I teach you, I want you to play it using this method.”
“No problem,” Ziqing agreed readily. No piece of music would be too difficult for her — this technique would be child’s play. It was only a month’s time, after all, and she couldn’t outrun his wind blades regardless. Besides, this gave her a good excuse to avoid the confrontation Jun Beiyue was surely waiting to have with her.
To say she wasn’t curious about Xuanyuan Lige would be a lie. Up close like this, she realized this man wasn’t cold at all — he was simply utterly absorbed in his zither music, as though his entire world consisted of nothing else. She suspected his music must carry a great many stories within it.
Just as she was pondering this, his cold, icy hand suddenly closed over her small one. Ziqing instinctively pulled back, but Xuanyuan Lige showed no embarrassment at all, simply drawing her hand back naturally, pressing it gently against the strings again, even adjusting the position finger by finger.
The strange, icy touch left Ziqing’s fingers stiffening involuntarily. She was about to look up when her forehead suddenly bumped against his — only then did she realize just how close he was.
Yet Xuanyuan Lige still seemed entirely unbothered, patting her hand lightly. “Relax. Your fingers must stay relaxed, the strength should come from your arm — this is the most basic principle, you should understand that.”
Only then did Ziqing relax, quietly amused at herself. This man really was hopelessly obsessed with the zither — this touch of fingers meant nothing romantic at all, no hidden intimacy whatsoever. She’d been the one reading too much into it.
Yet Ziqing had no way of knowing that no matter how close she and Xuanyuan Lige would grow in the days to come, this would remain the closest physical contact between them.
Ziqing had originally assumed this fingering technique wouldn’t be difficult. And yet, it took her a full five days to master it.
On the sixth day, she sat cross-legged beside Xuanyuan Lige at the cave mouth, the north wind howling around them. Having just finished a piece, she gazed out over the vast grasslands and asked, “Young Master Xuanyuan, are you from Western Chu as well?”
“No. I’m from Eastern Qin,” Xuanyuan Lige said with a faint smile, rising to look east. To the east lay flat, open plains stretching all the way to the eastern sea.