First Madam let out a long breath, uncertain whether this whole commotion had turned out well or badly. As her gaze fell on the retreating figures of Liu Jue leading Qingluo away by the hand, a flicker of amusement stirred in her eyes, though her face remained grave as she sighed and apologized to the Crown Prince: “I never expected Qingfei to be so careless and outspoken that she nearly turned a small accident into a rift between sisters. This concubine has failed in raising her daughters properly and has no face to remain here — allow me to take Qingfei and leave to properly discipline her.”
The Crown Prince smiled: “Qingfei was also upset on Lei’er’s behalf — she simply spoke from assumption rather than fact in her haste. In the future, remember to be careful with words.” Then he added: “Tonight we also discovered another kind of exceptional music, which is truly gratifying. Madam, going forward, don’t restrict Qingluo from playing the qin anymore. Otherwise, where else would we find such pure, refined music?”
First Madam nodded in agreement. The Crown Prince continued: “Fourth brother, did you enjoy yourself tonight?”
Zili watched Liu Jue and A’Luo walk out side by side. A’Luo never once looked back at him, and his heart already ached unbearably. He had no more heart to stay and drink. Hearing the Crown Prince hint at ending the banquet, he quickly said with a smile: “As they say, when the music ends, the guests depart. Having heard such music, I am already well satisfied. Thank you, elder brother, for your kindness — Zili was just thinking of taking his leave to savor the memory at home.”
Everyone laughed, and together they rose, bowed, and took their leave.
Once the guests had all departed, Wang Yanhui said languidly: “Everyone says the Chancellor’s daughters are all peerless in beauty and talent, yet the Third Young Lady alone seemed utterly mediocre — who knew she was in fact a woman of great resolve, secretly perfecting her skill all along. Her qin mastery truly rivals sister’s Autumn Waters from that day. Great music makes little sound — how apt that saying is!”
Qinglei forced out a smile, her face pale from blood loss: “Sister speaks truly. That little sister A’Luo possesses such skill with the qin — it gladdens my heart. This hand injury of mine turned out well after all — otherwise, how would we ever have discovered little sister’s hidden talent?”
Wang Yanhui smiled faintly: “Indeed — misfortune brings fortune in its wake. Judging by today, we should offer congratulations to little sister — it seems Little Prince may well become your brother-in-law.”
Qinglei only smiled. A faint smile gradually crept over the Crown Prince’s lips as well, his gaze toward Qinglei brimming with tenderness: “Lei’er, your hand is injured and you’re tired from today — let me accompany you back to the palace. Little sister must have been quite frightened too — tomorrow have someone send some gifts over. Otherwise, she might end up afraid of me as her future brother-in-law, and you’d have cause to complain again.”
As the Crown Prince spoke, his eyes were fixed on Crown Princess Wang Yanhui. Yanhui replied with a beaming smile: “Naturally it should be so! Tomorrow this concubine will personally go select the gifts.”
The Crown Prince slowly escorted Qinglei back, speaking gently and tenderly, attending to her carefully until she had fallen asleep before finally leaving. The sound of his footsteps gradually faded away down the long corridor. Qinglei rose from bed and draped a gauze robe over herself; the spacious side chamber of the Eastern Palace held only the glow of the coiled-dragon candles flickering red. The candlelight cast an even more bewitching beauty across her face as she watched a red candle burn down, its wick finally extinguishing in the still night. She heard that soft “pop” sound, like a fish releasing a bubble. A fish? Qinglei pursed her lips and blew out a bubble of breath, then another, until all the heavy weight and sorrow pressing on her chest had been released, breath by breath.
Finally Qinglei let out a long sigh. She sat before her dressing table and looked at herself in the mirror. Still that same proud, elegant beauty. She looked at her left hand and smiled faintly. Everyone assumed she was only skilled at the qin, never realizing that she’d diligently and earnestly studied everything — chess, calligraphy, painting, needlework — all of it. Since childhood, Third Madam had taught her that to become a person above others, one must first endure hardships above others. Born into the chancellor’s residence, though of concubine birth, she was still a daughter of the chancellor’s household, resembling her mother’s refined elegance, and clever and eager to learn besides. She also knew how to please Chancellor Li. With no sons of his own, he had raised her like a pearl in his palm.
Qinglei thought, Father, I know you need your daughters to secure your wealth and status. But could your daughter not also hope to soar to greater heights? And yet, the Crown Prince — she remembered the Peach Blossom Banquet, lifting the gauze veil and seeing him for the first time, his bright brows and starlit eyes, refined elegance touched with a gentle smile. That was when her heart had come to belong to him. Qinglei thought of the qin, of everything past, and softly recited: “The mountain has trees, the trees have branches; my heart delights in you, yet you know it not.” Two lines of tears slowly fell.
She raised her hand to wipe away the tears, murmuring: “A’Luo, you’ve helped me again this time. I hope you can marry Little Prince smoothly.”
Qingluo remained silent the whole way, led by the hand by Liu Jue out of the Eastern Palace and out of the imperial grounds. Liu Jue held her close as they rode back to the chancellor’s residence on horseback. Liu Jue didn’t gallop wildly, letting the horse walk slowly. Qingluo made no sound, leaning against Liu Jue’s chest with her eyes closed, feeling the night wind brush her face. Liu Jue held her against him on the horse; A’Luo neither struggled nor resisted. She was grateful, and didn’t wish to disturb this peaceful quiet. Once again she resolved firmly: she absolutely had to leave this place.
Liu Jue only wished the road had no end. He, too, said nothing. He’d felt a surge of anger the moment the Crown Prince ordered her finger broken. A’Luo might be mischievous, but she would never harbor such vicious intent. He’d been ready to act the moment the palace maids moved to grab her. It was then that he’d heard A’Luo’s astonishing, world-shaking cry. Once the music began, he’d been utterly captivated. A thousand unnamed emotions surged and swelled within his chest. In the instant Liu Fei’s fingers had tightened, without even thinking, he’d moved like the wind and pulled her away — he himself couldn’t quite understand why he’d felt so reluctant to let it happen. He looked down at A’Luo, eyes closed, resting in his arms. Liu Jue had only one thought: protect her. He absolutely had to protect her. He suddenly spurred the horse straight toward the chancellor’s residence.
“We’ve arrived at the residence.”
A’Luo opened her eyes and saw the towering gates of the chancellor’s residence. She said softly: “Thank you for today.”
Liu Jue smiled and lifted her down from the horse. A’Luo bowed to him in thanks and walked toward the residence. Liu Jue said nothing further, simply watching her until she went inside.
The Seventh Madam saw A’Luo return alone, quiet and composed, to Tangyuan Garden, and couldn’t help stepping forward to ask what had happened. A’Luo smiled brightly: “Mother, we will definitely leave this place. Definitely.” Her voice was firm and resolute.
A’Luo didn’t return to her room, but went straight to the bamboo grove. She sat there in a daze, thinking about where would be best to go, and how to get there. To the west lay Qi Guo — flat and open terrain, difficult to escape pursuers. To the east lay the Black Mountain Forest — the most dangerous option but also the most unexpected, though without wilderness experience, and with the Seventh Madam and Xiao Yu having no martial skill at all, it would be far too dangerous. Only to the south, crossing the Han River into Chen Guo, seemed feasible. She’d heard the scenery there resembled the lands south of the river — also the easiest route to travel. A’Luo thought, once Zili’s grand wedding was over and Qingfei had married into the Cheng family, the household would be busy and no one would pay them any attention — that would be the best opportunity.
Suddenly, a flicker before her eyes — Zili leapt into the bamboo grove of the chancellor’s residence. Moonlight cast long shadows through the bamboo. He had originally intended to call A’Luo out with the sound of his xiao, but upon entering the grove he found her already sitting quietly beside a rock, lost in thought.
Zili hurried forward several steps and said: “A’Luo, are you… angry with me?”
A’Luo raised her head. Anxiety showed on Zili’s face, that ever-present half-smile now entirely gone, replaced by something like pain in his eyes. A’Luo smiled: “Elder brother, how could I possibly blame you. When you moved to act, you must have already had a complete plan in mind. I know it — at most it would have hurt a little, but you would never have truly broken my finger.”
Zili seemed to relax slightly, his rigid posture easing a little. He walked over to A’Luo, crouched down before her, took her hand, and held it tightly, saying softly: “Today, I’ve never been so flustered in my life. A’Luo, I told you I would protect you.”
A’Luo gazed at him tenderly, then slowly withdrew her hand and stood up, her playful manner restored: “Elder brother, you did nothing wrong — I’m actually far more pragmatic than you are. If it had been me in your position, I wouldn’t have said anything at all. You’ve already been more than good to me.” She pursed her lips and sighed softly: “Elder brother, your mother is gone — you must be very tired, all on your own, mustn’t you?”
Warmth stirred in Zili’s heart: “A’Luo, that you understand my heart is enough to satisfy me. Will you wait for me?”
A’Luo was startled: “Wait for you for what?”
Zili stepped forward and pulled A’Luo into his embrace: “A’Luo, wait for me one year. After you come of age, I will marry you into my household — for my entire life, I will never let anyone harm you in the slightest!”
A’Luo froze, looking up at Zili, his eyes full of deep affection, his lips pressed firmly together — clearly his mind was made up. A’Luo stepped back out of his embrace: “Elder brother, you’ve already had it hard enough — don’t betray your father’s kindness in arranging this marriage.”
Zili looked steadily at A’Luo: “Tomorrow I will go to Father and beg forgiveness, asking him to withdraw the imperial decree.” As he said this, his face took on a certain radiance, handsome and bright as moonlight.
A’Luo smiled faintly: “Elder brother, your feelings haven’t settled yet — I’ll simply consider you my elder brother. Nothing more. Don’t give up everything you deserve for my sake. We — we belong to two different worlds. I won’t belong here.”
A’Luo’s shadow stretched long in the moonlight, her slender figure as resilient as the bamboo beside her. Zili gazed at her, entranced, and finally asked hoarsely: “Why? A’Luo, don’t you truly have any feelings for me in your heart?”
A’Luo looked up at the unchanging stars, the moonlight like water. From the moment she’d met Zili — remembering fighting on his behalf, opening Suxin Restaurant to earn money together, playing flute and xiao together, riding horses together across the grasslands — the memories flowed past like clouds and flowing water. Her disgust for the infighting within the palace, her weariness of remaining too long at the chancellor’s residence — in the end, she could not stay. She said softly: “Elder brother, everyone has their own world to live in. Being here at the chancellor’s residence, I have no choice. But life is long still, and I cannot. I cannot.”
Zili’s chest tightened, and after a long moment he said: “You want me to give up the throne and abandon everything here, to wander the world with you?”
A’Luo’s eyes gleamed in the darkness: “Where I come from, there’s a saying — life is precious indeed, but love is worth even more; yet for freedom’s sake, both could be sacrificed. I didn’t understand it very well before — if you’re not even alive, what’s the point of anything else? So I was timid, single-mindedly focused on preserving my own life, telling myself since childhood to endure and endure again. I’ve never even fallen in love before. To have won your affection, I’m truly, deeply grateful. Elder brother, I said before that I never expected to meet someone, to meet someone who would treat me this well. Being with you has truly made me happy. But now, I want freedom even more.”
Zili cut in: “I’ll give you freedom. Under my protection, you can be safe and free.”
A’Luo laughed softly: “Elder brother, I don’t want you giving up anything — you couldn’t anyway. Could you?”
Zili fell silent for a long moment before saying: “A’Luo, in the end you hope I would give up everything to walk with you alone. You’re right, I truly cannot do that. But wherever you go, you’ll always encounter powerful forces trying to coerce you, always be subject to others’ control — compared to that, wouldn’t it be better to stay safely by my side? You could do everything you wish to do. As long as it’s within my power, I’ll give you as much freedom as possible.”
A’Luo sighed: “You still have half a month until your wedding, elder brother.”
Zili’s voice carried sorrow: “I’ll go beg Father, go apologize to Chancellor Gu — A’Luo, what more do you want me to do?”
A’Luo’s heart ached: “You know perfectly well it’s impossible. You’d offend your father, offend a powerful minister of the court, turn the left and right chancellors against each other, all for the sake of one person — me. Even if you went through with it, don’t you know what the outcome would be?”
Zili suddenly pulled A’Luo into his arms: “You see everything so clearly! You understand everything completely! Why can’t you be a little foolish, just once, and tell me you have feelings for me?”
A’Luo said softly: “I can’t lie to you, elder brother. My heart is weary — too weary to have the strength to care about anything else.”
Zili gently released her. A’Luo’s tears had already fallen; Zili reached out to catch them, the drops scalding hot and painful in his palm. How could he not know — unless A’Luo was willing to enter his household as a concubine, he would never truly have her. He remembered what Liu Jue had said to him: “You treat A’Luo no better than this — if you truly cherish her, how could you let her suffer the indignity of becoming a mere concubine?” Zili lifted A’Luo’s face and wiped away her tears: “A’Luo, taking you in as a concubine would indeed be wronging you. But we could be together, couldn’t we? Being together would be so wonderful — would you really let mere status confine you?”
A’Luo shook her head: “You wouldn’t understand. A husband and a toothbrush are only meant for one person’s use. Your way of thinking isn’t wrong. Didn’t my own father marry seven wives?” Zili grew somewhat frustrated: “A’Luo, after everything, do you actually have feelings for me in your heart or not?”
A’Luo lowered her head and said nothing.
Zili sighed deeply: “A’Luo, it seems what you feel for me truly is only the affection between siblings, with no romantic love at all.” Zili looked at A’Luo, deeply reluctant to leave, and finally, after a long pause, leapt away from the chancellor’s residence.
A’Luo watched Zili’s figure drift away, her face caught between laughter and tears. Zili loved her — he truly loved her. Her heart felt both sweet and bitter all at once. A poem came to mind that seemed to perfectly capture this night. She softly recited it: “Her cloud-like hair loosened and rearranged, her light powder faintly applied; red mist and green haze wrapped around her graceful form, drifting silk and flying threads unsettled. The music and songs faded after the wine had barely worn off, deep in the courtyard the moon bright, the night still. Better to have never met at all — is this affection, or is it none at all?”