“Sister, will that Gongzi Huang Chao become Emperor one day?”
Listening to those echoes that refused to fade, Han Pu lifted his head and asked Fengxi.
“Emperor of a new dynasty? Perhaps it will be him — perhaps not.” Fengxi raised her eyes. The blazing sun above was blinding, like that supremely arrogant Shizi of Huangguo.
“But the presence he had when he spoke was something else!” Han Pu also tilted his head back to look at the sky, narrowing his eyes against the scorching glare.
“Puer, do you envy him greatly?” Fengxi looked down at Han Pu with a faint, easy smile. “Do you also wish to become someone like that?”
“Sister, I do envy him — but I don’t want to become someone like him!” Han Pu looked at Fengxi, his small, grimy face answering with complete seriousness.
“Why not?” Fengxi found his answer curious.
“That person’s brilliance is too blinding — it overshadows everyone around him. He is like the sun in the sky: all the world watches him, and yet there is only one.” Han Pu stretched out a hand and pointed at the sky, then turned to Fengxi with earnest eyes. “Even if he stands at the very pinnacle, everything within reach of his hand has no companion beside it — wouldn’t that be terribly lonely?”
“Mm.” Upon hearing this, Fengxi could not help but look at Han Pu, her gaze softening. A moment later, she reached out and gently patted the top of his head. “Puer, you will one day become a person who surpasses Baifeng Heixi!”
“Surpass Sister?” Han Pu grinned wide at this — but a moment later the smile vanished. “I don’t want to surpass Sister. I want to stand in the same place as Sister!”
“The highest place…” Fengxi seemed not to have heard his words. She reached up and lightly swept aside the strands of hair dancing at her temple, her gaze directed far ahead — as though she were looking all the way to the edge of heaven and earth, so deep and distant was her expression. “Though there are no companions, he possesses supreme authority, rank, and renown… as well as inexhaustible wealth and glory. Perhaps that is its own form of compensation.”
“But none of those can be taken away when he dies!” Han Pu argued, his brows knitting together as he spoke in a rush. “Mother used to say that when a person dies, it is all finished — everything from their life before becomes like clouds and smoke, impossible to hold onto or carry away. And Father would say that when Mother died, she could take him with her. I think Mother could take Father with her when she died — but when an Emperor dies, he can’t take his throne or his power with him!”
“Ha, to think that old man Han would say something like that.” Fengxi smiled lightly, then patted Han Pu. “Who says an Emperor can take nothing with him? Your mother had your father — but an Emperor has many consorts. When he dies, not only are rare and priceless treasures buried alongside him, but many consorts and concubines are made to follow him in death as well. He would certainly not be alone.”
“But that’s not willing from the heart! And if it’s not willing from the heart, they won’t be found once they reach the underworld — wouldn’t he still be alone?” Han Pu held firm to his own view.
“Willing from the heart…” Fengxi suddenly turned to look back at the road they had come from, her gaze drifting. After a long while, she sighed quietly. “There is very little that is ‘willing from the heart’ in this world — especially in this turbulent and chaotic age!”
“So when I die, will there be anyone who follows me?” Han Pu began worrying about matters of death.
“That I wouldn’t know.” Fengxi smiled, and flicked a finger lightly against his forehead. “You little one — thinking about what happens after death at such a young age.”
“Then can I follow Sister when Sister dies?” Han Pu remained determined, only wanting to find someone to keep him company.
“No.” Fengxi refused without hesitation.
“Why not?”
“Because you are younger than me. By the time I die of old age, you will certainly still be living perfectly well.”
“But I want to go with Sister — we can keep each other company in the underworld, and we can be reborn together.”
“Absolutely not — heaven forbid! It was bad enough being saddled with you as a burden in this life. I have no wish to carry it again in the next.”
“I’m not a burden! Once I grow up, it’ll be my turn to protect Sister!”
“I have no need of protection. Go protect someone else who matters to you.”
“Father and Mother are both gone. The most important person to me now is Sister!”
“A wife and children will be the most important people to you.”
“I don’t have a wife and children.”
“You will, in time.”
“No, I won’t.”
…
—
“Young master, you showed the Xuanzun Token so readily — aren’t you afraid she will grow greedy?” On the mountain path, Xiao Jian voiced the question that had been in his mind. The young master always acted with great caution — how was it that today he had stepped outside convention in every way?
“That young lady… perhaps even if the entire world were laid before her eyes, she would not spare it a glance — let alone one token that, in her eyes, is nothing but filth!” Huang Chao looked up and sighed.
“Mm.” Xiao Jian nodded. “Could you determine her identity, young master?”
“No.” Huang Chao sighed. “I observed them carefully while they were eating. That young man called Han Pu sat upright the entire time, his back straight — though he was covered in grime, not a single thing fell onto his clothes while he ate. This shows that he was raised from childhood under strict household discipline. Furthermore, those foods are not the kind that common people could come by, yet they both treated them as familiar things — which indicates that they come from a wealthy and distinguished background.”
“As for that young lady — though she had no decorum to speak of, her every word and action somehow felt free and natural, and watching her didn’t feel jarring at all; on the contrary, everything she did seemed perfectly in order.” Huang Chao stopped walking and turned back. “Jian, what do you make of that young lady?”
“Even if she were ugly, she would be ugly with spirit! Even if she were unconventional, she would be unconventional in a way that transcends the ordinary!” Xiao Jian lowered his head and lightly gripped the hilt of his sword.
“Well said — ‘spirited and transcendent’!” Huang Chao laughed softly, and walked on with his hands clasped behind his back.
“Young master.” Xiao Jian called out again.
“Mm.”
“Did young master happen to notice the ornament on her forehead?”
“The ornament on her forehead?” Huang Chao turned sharply, his gaze bright as a cold flash of lightning.
“Because of how black and ashen she was all over, it was difficult to see clearly — but young master mentioned that Bai Fengxi wears white like snow and moonlight… snow and moonlight… the outline of that ornament did rather resemble a crescent moon. It’s just that young master also said Bai Fengxi is breathtaking in grace, and she was…” Xiao Jian also stopped walking, sinking into thought.
“Bai Fengxi?” Huang Chao murmured the name, then burst into loud laughter. “Ha ha… it’s her! It must be her! We were both deceived by those four words ‘breathtaking in grace’ — we assumed she must be a woman of extraordinary beauty, and therefore concluded she could not be the unkempt figure before us. But even covered in filth, she still could not hide her brilliance. What is that, if not breathtaking grace?! The only woman in this world with martial arts of such supreme caliber is her! And the only one who would dare openly declare she places none of the Four Great Gentlemen in her eyes is none other than Bai Fengxi — the woman known as the foremost extraordinary woman under heaven!”
“So she really is Bai Fengxi?” Xiao Jian turned to look in the direction Fengxi had departed. “That… is Bai Fengxi…”
“She stood openly right before me, and yet I failed to recognize her — well played, Bai Fengxi!” Huang Chao exclaimed with feeling, yet his face carried a delighted smile. “We will certainly meet again! Fengxi!”
—
Since the Emperor lost the Xuanzun Token, the Qiyun royal domain had lost the prestige it once commanded. Not only was it constantly encroached upon by the feudal lords, but its towns and cities were being swallowed up one by one. Had it not been for Grand General Dong Shuzhong’s unwavering loyalty to the imperial house — leading his one hundred thousand Imperial Guards in a vow to defend the royal domain to the death — Qiyun would long since have been carved up and divided among the lords.
Today, Qiyun’s population was sparse and its economy in decline. In terms of military and national strength, it could not be compared with Fengguo or Huangguo; in terms of culture and economy, it fell short of Fengguo and Huaguo. Even the smaller kingdoms of Nanguo and Baiguo, through decades of annexation and conquest, had long since surpassed it.
The Wuyun River, stretching from Baiguo into Qiyun, brought prosperity to many a village and township along its banks — and Yu City was one such city, situated along the Wuyun’s shores. Bordering Linjing to the south, adjoining Taoluo to the west, connecting Jianjing to the north, and facing the Wuyun River to the east, Yu City was spared the constant ravages of border warfare, and with its crossroads of roads in all directions and its level, fertile land, it was — outside the imperial capital — the most stable and prosperous city in all of Qiyun. Every trade and industry flourished there, and its people lived and worked in peace and contentment, bearing still the shadow of Qiyun’s former glory and splendor.
On the banks of the Wuyun River in Yu City stood a tall building — five stories high, with three sides overlooking the water and its front face opening to the street. This was the most celebrated establishment in Yu City: the Sunset Tower. The Sunset Tower had earned its fame through the sight of the setting sun over the Wuyun River and its own house-brewed wine called the Duanhong Liquid. Day after day, guests arrived in an endless stream, and at the hour of sunset in particular, the road before the tower was always thick with carriages and horses.
The owner of the Sunset Tower was clearly no ordinary or vulgar person. One look at the tower’s renown and business was enough to see that. An uninformed visitor might well assume that such a place must be roofed with jade-green tiles, adorned with carved beams and embroidered railings, grandly imposing in every way — only such a place could be worthy of the name of Qiyun’s foremost tower!
Yet in truth, not a trace of opulence or splendor was to be found in the Sunset Tower. Though it was built from the finest timber, the interior decor was strikingly plain — no brocade draped the tables, no embroidered rugs covered the floors, no intricate lanterns hung from the ceiling, no dazzling bead curtains adorned the entrance. There were only the simple tables and chairs that every guest would need, and clean bowls and plates. And yet each table and chair, each small stand and couch, each curtain and drape had been designed with individual ingenuity and arranged with perfect appropriateness, so that anyone who stepped inside immediately felt a refreshing novelty — comfortable and at ease.
*”Searching west for one long gone, unseen now — only the slanted sun. A dream shattered across ten thousand li of mountains and rivers — I tilt my head and sigh. Longing in parting, hair ends astir, tears fall for nothing. A sail’s shadow, swift and light as an arrow, passes through a thousand mountains!”*
Within the Sunset Tower, nestled amid clear breezes and beautiful waters, there was a quiet and refined elegance all its own. A song of “Parting Sorrow,” carrying all the weight of grief, drifted out from within the tower and melted into the cool river wind, scattered into the vast crimson sky, chasing after the sun as it sank in the west. In the blood-red light of the dying sun, a white sail was slicing across the glittering river surface, cutting through the rich golden light — coming swift as an arrow.
In the blink of an eye, a white-sailed black vessel came to rest before the Sunset Tower. The sharp-eyed, sharp-eared server had already strode quickly out along the wooden bridge built before the tower, bowing in welcome to the guests disembarking from the vessel.
When that young gentleman in black stepped out from the ship’s cabin and set foot upon the wooden bridge, the server suddenly felt a dazzling golden light blaze before his eyes — the evening sun seemed, in that instant, more brilliant and resplendent than the morning sun — and that gentleman seemed to walk toward him on a path of golden light from the western sky, the last lingering glow of dusk still wrapped lightly around him, not yet fully faded.
The server stared open-mouthed, long forgetting what he had come out for. Only when someone tugged repeatedly at his sleeve did he come back to himself — and that gentleman was already standing before him, no more than three feet away, a composed and leisurely smile on his incomparably handsome face, a pair of eyes dark as ink-jade looking at him with warmth and ease.
“Young Master Server, you’re blocking my young master’s path.” His sleeve was tugged again, accompanied by a voice that was clear and bright with a trace of childlike innocence.
The server looked down and found a fresh-faced young attendant in blue tugging at him. He came abruptly to his senses, hastily stepped aside, and bowed. “My apologies, young master.”
The gentleman in black gave a slight shake of his head to indicate it was of no concern, and smiled pleasantly. “Would you be so kind as to lead the way?”
His voice was like wind passing through jade chimes. His smile was like a breeze brushing over a lotus blossom.
“But of course! But of course!” The server nodded rapidly. “This way, young master.”
At the same time that this black-robed gentleman stepped out of the ship’s cabin, a carriage drew to a stop before the main street-facing entrance of the Sunset Tower. The horse was an ordinary horse, and the carriage was a simple two-wheeled cart — but the server standing at the door was not the sort to judge by appearances, and still ran enthusiastically to the carriage, lifting the curtain with eager attentiveness and calling out warmly: “Welcome, esteemed guest, to the Sunset Tower!”
When the curtain was lifted and the person within stepped down from the carriage, the guests in front of the tower who were about to leave or were about to enter, and the attendants busy tending horses and carrying sedan chairs, all suddenly halted their steps and actions. The moment their eyes fell on that figure, they could not look away.
He was a young gentleman dressed in a simple white robe of plain cloth — unadorned as white jade that has never been carved, wholly natural and yet of its own purity and flawlessness. His eyes were clear and deep as a jade pool, yet without ripple or thought, without desire or want. Standing casually before the carriage, he seemed to stand upon the ninth heaven, idly casting a glance down at the endless red dust of the mortal world and its teeming, striving souls — transcendent and serene, yet also tinged with compassion. Even the humble carriage seemed to be suffused with a layer of luminescence, as though it might at any moment soar upon clouds and mist, carrying away this white-robed gentleman of peerless grace.
“Sunset Tower.” The white-robed gentleman raised his head and gazed at the plaque above, reading the name softly to himself.
“Yes! Yes! This is the Sunset Tower!” The server who had come back to his senses added this unnecessary confirmation with a nod, while ushering the white-robed gentleman inside. “This way, young master!”
“Thank you, young master server.” The white-robed gentleman offered his thanks with calm politeness.
“Not at all! Not at all!” The server beamed so wide his grin nearly reached his ears.
When the black-robed gentleman and the white-robed gentleman stepped into the tower one after the other, every person in the hall involuntarily looked up toward these two figures. The hall, which had been wide and filled with noise, instantly grew quiet and seemed to shrink — the entire room was filled with the brilliance of these two men alone, yet look left or right, one could not decide which of them to watch. Such exceptional figures — in a whole lifetime, one might never encounter even one of them, yet here two had appeared at the same time. It made one wonder if one were dreaming! In that moment, every person present became very busy — simply because they could not bear to miss a single moment’s glance at either one.
As the black-robed and white-robed gentlemen stepped through the entrance, they each saw the other at once. Even with so many people in the hall, the first thing each saw was — the other. For even placed among ten thousand people, your eyes could find only them.
Both were momentarily startled — yet in the very next instant, both broke into a slight smile simultaneously and exchanged a bow, as though they were old friends meeting in a distant land.
“Young Master Yu?” The black-robed gentleman looked at this otherworldly white-robed gentleman, confirming the conjecture in his heart.
“Young Master Feng?” The white-robed gentleman likewise confirmed the identity of this nobleman of noble bearing.
In that one smile, one bow, and one address — one was elegant as a sovereign, the other as graceful as an immortal.
“Feng Xi counts himself fortunate to encounter today the Young Master Yu of whom all under heaven say ‘it is hard to be fated to meet’!” The black-robed gentleman smiled with warmth, restrained and courteous.
“It is Wuyuan who, despite being ‘without fate,’ has today been fated to meet the renowned Hei Fengxi!” The white-robed gentleman’s face bore a gentle, refined smile — warm, yet with a distance about it that was not his desire to keep others away, but rather that one instinctively did not dare to draw close, for fear of giving offense.
This black-robed gentleman was none other than Feng Xi. And this white-robed gentleman was Yu Wuyuan — known as the foremost gentleman under heaven.
Everyone in the hall who heard their exchange was immediately in an uproar. To think that these two were none other than Feng Xi and Yu Wuyuan — two of the Four Great Gentlemen of Dong Chao!
“Since our paths have crossed, I wonder if Feng Xi might have the honor of inviting Young Master Yu to share a jug of Duanhong Liquid?” Feng Xi asked with gracious courtesy.
“To enjoy the sunset from the top of the Sunset Tower in the company of Young Master Feng — this is a fortune of three lifetimes for Wuyuan.” Yu Wuyuan replied with equal decorum.
Feng Xi turned with a smile to the server who had led him in. “Young master server, are there still vacant seats on the fifth floor?”
“Yes! Yes!” The server nodded again and again — even if there were none, he would clear a place for these two gentlemen.
“Young Master Yu, please.” Feng Xi stepped aside in deference.
“Young Master Feng, please.” Yu Wuyuan also gestured in courtesy.
In the end, the two ascended the stairs together toward the fifth floor, leaving behind an entire hall of guests craning their necks to watch them go.
In a private room by the window on the fifth floor, the curtain was drawn down, blocking all prying gazes. The two gentlemen — one in black, one in white, each magnificent in his own way — exchanged courtesies and then sat facing each other. Zhong Li and Zhong Yuan stood in attendance nearby.
“May I ask what the two young masters would like?” the attentive server inquired.
“Young master server, what are your most accomplished dishes?” Feng Xi asked.
“‘A light breeze over the water, the duckweed flowers slowly aging; the moonlit dew cools, the parasol tree leaves turn yellow.'” The server answered respectfully.
“Young master server, are those lines of poetry — or are those dishes?” Yu Wuyuan, seeing the server announce the dish names with such literary elegance, could not help but ask with an amused smile.
“In reply to young master — those are this establishment’s four most celebrated dishes.” The server answered with a lowered head, feeling that only these four most refined names were suited to the rank of the two people before him.
“Ha — it seems the owner of the Sunset Tower is no ordinary person either. Even the dish names are chosen with such tasteful refinement.” Feng Xi could not help but laugh softly. “What does Young Master Yu think?”
“Wuyuan has never been one to understand such things — whatever Young Master Feng sees fit will do.” Yu Wuyuan’s gaze settled on a pot of plain orchids on the flower stand in the room.
“Young master server, bring all four of those dishes, and add two jugs of Duanhong Liquid.” Feng Xi instructed.
“Yes, young master.” The server acknowledged and withdrew.
After the server left, the room fell into perfect stillness. These two men were both counted among the Four Gentlemen, and each was extraordinary in his bearing — meeting by chance like this, they should by rights have felt a natural affinity of kindred spirits. And yet, for reasons neither could name, the two maintained a very tacit distance, with no inclination toward intimacy whatsoever.
There was a table between them — yet it might as well have been the Han River in its breadth. On either bank of that wide river, they looked at each other across the water, each moved by the other’s brilliance, yet neither could cross over; neither could meet.
Feng Xi sat upright, his fingers toying with a pale jade thumb ring, his gaze drifting sometimes to the window and sometimes settling on Yu Wuyuan. His long, phoenix-shaped eyes occasionally gleamed with a faint, inexplicable smile. His bearing was always one of noble ease — befitting in every way his title of the distinguished gentleman of the martial world.
Yu Wuyuan leaned back lightly against his chair, his face tilted slightly toward the window, his gaze adrift — seeming to look at the window lattice, yet also seeming to look toward the vast expanse of sky beyond. His expression was one of calm serenity. He sat plainly in sight, yet felt so distant. As though he had merged into this heaven and earth — or as though he contained this heaven and earth, like boundless, endless water: clear enough to reflect all things, yet deep and vast enough to hold them all.
Before long, the food and drink arrived.
“‘Light breeze over the water,’ ‘duckweed flowers slowly aging,’ ‘moonlit dew cools,’ ‘parasol tree leaves turn yellow’ — and two jugs of Duanhong Liquid.” The server sang out the dish names, breaking the room’s silence. “Please enjoy at your leisure, young masters.”
The server stepped back, then turned around at the curtain. “Would the two young masters perhaps like to hear a song?”
“You have a singer here?” Yu Wuyuan finally returned from the distant skyline, his gaze coming to rest on the server with an unhurried lightness.
“Young master, please don’t misunderstand — our Sunset Tower is nothing like those establishments of pleasure. The singer, Feng Qiwu, is nothing like those women in such places either — she is a young woman of pure and upright character. Were it not for…” The server suddenly cut himself off here, heaved a deep sigh, and then continued. “Miss Feng’s singing is without peer in all of Yu City — far superior to the women of the Yulin Tower, by a measure impossible to name. If neither young master believes it, one hearing will convince you — this humble one does not exaggerate.”
By the end of it, the server’s words carried a tone of considerable pride. Both men could not help but smile faintly, and neither pressed him about the sentence he had left unfinished.
“Just now I heard half a song about ‘parting’ from a distance — was that sung by this Miss Feng?” Feng Xi finally stilled the hand that had been turning the jade thumb ring, and asked casually.
“Yes — that song just now was Miss Feng’s.”
“In that case, please ask Miss Feng to sing a song from the other side of the curtain.” Feng Xi waved his hand.
“Very well.” The server withdrew.
Zhong Li stepped forward to pour wine for the two men.
“Young Master Yu, let us taste the Sunset Tower’s famous dishes and fine brew.” Feng Xi said with a smile.
“Mm.” Yu Wuyuan raised the cup and tasted it. After a moment he nodded with a slight smile. “Rich and mellow on entry, clean and gentle — fine wine indeed!”
Feng Xi also took a sip and nodded. “Not bad.”
Then he extended his chopsticks toward the dish that resembled a purple water lily in full bloom — “Light Breeze Over the Water” — and tasted it carefully.
“So it’s eggplant. Mm… very well done. The difficulty with eggplant is that it absorbs oil so readily and tends to be too heavy — yet this is light and delicate, dissolving the moment it reaches the palate. Not only does the fragrance of eggplant fill the mouth, but there seems to be a hint of lotus fragrance at the throat.”
“This leaf of green duckweed tinged with a trace of pale yellow — no wonder it’s called ‘Duckweed Flowers Slowly Aging.'” Yu Wuyuan extended his chopsticks toward the dish shaped like green duckweed. “It turns out to be cucumber. Mm… the balance between raw and cooked is handled with perfect precision — crisp and smooth. Its finest quality is that the cucumber juice is full and entirely natural in flavor. It must be freshly picked and prepared on the spot.”
“‘Moonlit Dew Cools’?” Feng Xi looked at the plate — round, plump slices of a lustrous amber-gold, like full moons, each with tiny beads condensed upon them like pearls of dew. He lifted a slice and took a light bite — a refreshing sweetness spread through his mouth. “It appears to be made from lotus root — medium-thick young roots, cut into round slices of uniform size and thickness, then dressed with snow orchid juice. Beautiful to look at, and the flavor is even more exceptional. ‘Moonlit Dew Cools’ — a fine name!”
“‘Parasol Tree Leaves Turn Yellow’ turns out to be napa cabbage.” Yu Wuyuan also tasted the final dish — its petals shaped like open palms, the young leaves a tender yellow, its color striking and lovely. “Mm… tender and fresh!”
“Ha — to think that the Sunset Tower’s most celebrated dishes are not only all vegetarian, but made from the most ordinary of ingredients.” Feng Xi said with an appreciative sigh.
“To prepare such ordinary ingredients with such extraordinary form and flavor, and to give them names of such distinction — the owner of this Sunset Tower is no simple person.” Yu Wuyuan also laughed softly in appreciation.
“Looking at the style of this establishment, it is not difficult to imagine its owner.” Feng Xi glanced around the room with admiration. “Within its simplicity lives a quiet elegance; within its ordinariness lies a distinctive charm. It has been a long time since I’ve seen work this fine.”
“‘At the Sunset Tower, amid the cries of lone geese, a wanderer of the south looks at his sword, beats the railing again and again — and there is no one who understands the feeling of one who climbs to such heights.'” Yu Wuyuan recited quietly, his gaze shifting again to the window. The evening glow was slowly withdrawing, and a few small boats drifted off toward the horizon. “I wonder what was in the heart of the Sunset Tower’s owner when he built this place.”
“Ha.” Feng Xi smiled and looked at him, his eyes seeming to hold the golden shimmer of the setting sun. “Perhaps he poured all those unshared feelings of one who climbs to great heights into this tower. Only… Young Master Yu ought not to worry about having no one who understands such feelings.”
“It is only that Wuyuan has always been without awareness or feeling — ‘the feeling of one who climbs to such heights’ is beyond him entirely.” Yu Wuyuan drew his gaze back from the window and looked at Feng Xi. The light in his eyes was tinged with the faint warmth of sunset, yet the look itself was serene — as still as the untroubled river surface at this hour.
“That truly is a pity.” Feng Xi seemed genuinely regretful.
Light, graceful footsteps sounded on the staircase, accompanied by a faint, delicate fragrance — drawing nearer from afar, until they stopped before the curtain. Through the thin water-blue cloth, the outline of a slender figure was faintly visible.
“What song would the guests like to hear?”
The woman’s voice carried a coldness within its clarity, and a thread of pride within its chill.
Yu Wuyuan, however, was focused on picking up a slice of “Moonlit Dew Cools” with his chopsticks, as though he had not heard the question from beyond the curtain.
Feng Xi raised his wine cup and drank it down, then said with measured calm: “Whatever Miss Feng wishes to sing.”
There was a brief silence beyond the curtain. Then the sound of a pipa began — like pearls and jade falling onto a plate, like an oriole singing at the base of a flower, like a spring flowing frozen beneath ice. Before the song even started, the music already carried feeling.
At the sound of such pipa playing, both men were faintly surprised, and involuntarily glanced toward the cloth curtain. They had not expected someone in this circumstance of life to possess such skill.
*”Who last night heard the sound of a flute? Cold crickets and a solitary cicada cry without cease. Tea in the earthen pot grows cold, the moon loses its luster — only in dreams does one walk in step with song.”*
A thread of clear sound filtered through the curtain — lingering, light as smoke, winding around the very bones of the ear. A lone shadow facing the cold moon; in dreams, the tea flows on; the quiet of the room keeps company with the autumn cicada.
Listening to the melancholy song, watching the last glow of evening beyond the tower — in that instant, though they sat facing each other, both men felt a faint, spreading loneliness. Each seemed to carry within them a flute’s song played only for themselves, with no knowing for whom it was played.
When the music and song faded, both men were silent for a moment. The one beyond the curtain made no move to sing again, and stood quietly.
“Princess Xiyun earned her reputation for literary talent at a young age, and the poems and songs she composed are already being sung and passed between teahouses and alleyways throughout the land.” After a long while, Yu Wuyuan spoke with admiration — thinking of the princess of Fengguo, whose fame for both literary and martial gifts was known across the world.
“This singer possesses both voice and feeling — that too is rare.” Feng Xi offered his praise for the one singing beyond the curtain.
“I have heard that Young Master Feng is a man of many gifts and wide learning — the most knowledgeable among the Four Gentlemen, even while living the life of the jianghu. Seeing you today, I find it is no exaggeration.” Yu Wuyuan suddenly offered this remark, his gaze drifting lightly onto Feng Xi.
“Who would dare speak of being many-gifted and learned in the presence of Young Master Yu?” Feng Xi laughed it off with elegant ease.
The two exchanged light banter, seeming to forget that someone was still standing beyond the curtain.
*Dong… dong…* From beyond the curtain came the sound of steady, rhythmic footsteps.
“Young Master Yu.” That set of footsteps halted before the curtain, and a deep voice called out.
“Come in.” Yu Wuyuan set down the cup in his hand.
The curtain was lifted. Both men cast a glance at what lay beyond — they saw the black-robed man stepping inside, and also caught a glimpse of the young woman in blue standing just beyond the curtain, graceful and upright, pipa cradled in her arms, her face expressionless. The curtain fell again — so quickly that no one had time to read what lay in her eyes.
“Young Master Yu, a letter has arrived for the young master.” The black-robed man offered the letter with a respectful bow.
“Mm.” Yu Wuyuan received the letter and gave a slight nod. “You may go.”
“Yes.”
The black-robed man withdrew. As he lifted the curtain, he did not spare so much as a glance at the young woman standing beside it — but Feng Xi noticed, and saw that the young woman’s gaze was filled with something that seemed like resentment, like anger, or like bewildered helplessness.
The curtain fell gently back down, concealing that look. On either side of the curtain — two entirely separate worlds.
Yu Wuyuan broke open the letter and read it. Against the backdrop of his habitually still eyes, a faint, fleeting ripple passed through them.
“Miss Feng, if she does not mind — would she care to come in for a cup?” Feng Xi, however, addressed the cloth curtain, a trace of amusement rising in his eyes.
For a long moment there was no response. The air grew thick — one could almost feel the hesitation of the figure in blue beyond the curtain.
At last, the cloth curtain was lifted, and that blue figure stepped inside. Her silent gaze swept briefly over the pure and flawless white-robed gentleman, pausing there for just a moment — but in the end, her eyes came to rest on the refined and handsome black-robed gentleman across from her.
Feng Xi looked over this Feng Qiwu, somewhat surprised that this woman counted as Yu City’s foremost singer was dressed in a plain hairpin and ordinary cloth skirt, without so much as a touch of cosmetics — and yet even so, she was remarkably beautiful: eyebrows like willow leaves, a face like peach blossoms, but about her features there hung a layer of solitary pride, and her expression carried a cold aloofness that kept others a thousand miles away.
“Please, Miss Feng.” Feng Xi said casually.
Zhong Yuan immediately fetched a cup and poured wine, then offered it to Feng Qiwu.
Feng Qiwu did not take it, however. Her eyes were fixed on Feng Xi — and Feng Xi simply let her look, tending to his wine at his own leisure, his manner easy and unconstrained.
As for Yu Wuyuan, his gaze remained on the letter — though his thoughts seemed to have drifted far away, as though he had not perceived the addition of another person in the room.
After a long while, Feng Qiwu took the cup with one hand and drank it down in a single draught.
“So the young lady is so forthright!” Seeing her drain the cup in one go, Feng Xi could not help but laugh lightly.
“This is the first time Qiwu has drunk a guest’s wine.” Feng Qiwu replied coolly to his words.
“Oh?” Feng Xi turned to look at her at this — and saw that her face, cold as ice and snow, had with the flush of wine risen to a faint, delicate crimson, softening one degree of her cold pride and adding one degree of vivid color. “With singing of such peerless artistry, the young lady ought to have the whole world competing to invite her.”
“Qiwu never drinks a guest’s wine.” Feng Qiwu’s voice remained detached, her eyes never leaving Feng Xi — as though there were no third person in the room.
Feng Xi finally looked at her with full attention — and saw that in those clear, exquisite eyes of hers there burned a thread of resolute determination. But what was she resolved about?
“If that is so, then Xi counts himself fortunate to have been granted such favor by the young lady.”
Feng Qiwu said nothing. In her eyes lay a trace of desolate sorrow.
From the first day the Sunset Tower lifted its voice in song, she had known that her life had sunk into this world of dust — and everything that came before was like yesterday, never to be returned to.
Yet even so — a thousand gold pieces could not buy her eyes open, and she would not glance back at crimson gauze. She could hurl away the coral, drive off the young gallants of the five mausoleums, let the autumn moons and spring breezes drift away with the water — and she still held onto the one thread of pride her family had given her, maintaining the last shred of dignity she possessed. She was unwilling to sink into the mud and never rise again, because deep within her heart there resided a tiny, tiny… tiny thought that refused, no matter what, to yield.
Before coming here, the server had praised these two men to the skies — words that had only stirred contempt in her. She assumed they were merely two more wealthy young men who possessed good looks and nothing else, come drawn by her face. Yet as it turned out, she had been wrong: excluded behind the curtain, they had shown not the faintest interest in her, treating her with perfect indifference — and she had felt both ashamed and astonished.
At the instant the curtain was lifted, she had seen only one pair of eyes — dark as midnight, so boundless in their depth, and yet somehow shining with the kind of dazzling brilliance that only the bright sun should possess. In that one instant, she felt as though she had fallen into that midnight darkness — and felt no cold, no panic, only a faint, faint warmth passing through the darkness, gently flowing toward a heart that had not been warm in many years.
That warmth had not yet faded when the curtain was lifted again — and she saw that pair of eyes once more. Like a whirlpool of dark jade, light and shadow interweaving — and even as her vision swam and her mind reeled, she knew: should she fall into it, she would never escape. She felt grateful when the curtain had dropped again, cutting off that whirlpool. She had told herself to leave quickly — yet her legs had felt weighted with a thousand pounds.
She had been standing there, irresolute — when he called to her with his voice.
When those calm and unhurried words sounded, it was as though fate itself were beckoning to her. Like destiny — only gently winding around her once, and already she could not break free. She could only helplessly yield to fate’s arrangement, lift the curtain again, face those eyes dark as a night sky again, and walk toward the one bathed in the pale golden evening glow — that person radiating a brilliance like dark jade! Dark in a way so utterly flawless!
“Qiwu has sung songs in the Sunset Tower for four years, and yet this is the first cup of a guest’s wine she has drunk.” She spoke these words — different words carrying the same meaning — only hoping this person might understand: he was her first!
“Feng Qiwu?” Feng Xi murmured the name, looking at this woman with thoughtful eyes. Though her expression was cool and detached, deep within her gaze lay a longing — buried so deep, yet so easy to see, and so painful to look upon.
Hearing him speak her name, Feng Qiwu’s heart was flooded with a desolate ache. The one who had given her this name had long since become a handful of yellow earth — and she, bearing this name in vain, had in the end failed to live up to his hopes for her.
“In all these years, Xi has traveled across all six kingdoms, yet this is the first time he has heard singing of such remarkable quality.” Feng Xi paused briefly, then looked steadily at Feng Qiwu and said with easy calm: “I wonder if the young lady would be willing to travel alongside Xi, and see the mountains and rivers beyond Qiyun.”
As he spoke, he poured himself another cup of wine, and did not look at Feng Qiwu again — as though her answer, either way, was of little consequence.
The moment she heard these words, a flash of brightness passed through Feng Qiwu’s eyes — and was extinguished in an instant. Still as beautiful as peach and plum blossom, still as cold as frost and ice — only her slender fingers moved softly across the strings of the pipa. The faint trembling of those strings betrayed the thousand crashing waves surging within her heart at this moment.
Feng Xi finished his cup of wine and moved his gaze to Yu Wuyuan across from him — and was unexpectedly met with the sight of this man, who seemed untouched by the mortal world, bearing between his brows a quiet, faint sorrow.
“What good news was in the Shizi’s letter to keep Young Master Yu so absorbed?” Feng Xi asked — though his eyes seemed already to know.
Upon hearing this, Yu Wuyuan instantly resumed his composure. His gaze turned to the window, seeming to look at something — yet seeming to look at nothing. Both hands moved together; with a light gesture, the letter paper crumbled to fine fragments and drifted down in a shower toward the river below.
“There is good, and there is bad.”
“Is that so?” The refined smile on Feng Xi’s face took on a glint of quiet acuity. “The good must be related to the Xuanzun Token, I imagine?”
Yu Wuyuan remained outwardly unmoved. He reached for his wine cup, raised it, and looked at the clear wine within the white cup, swirling it lightly — the wine stirred and shimmered. Without answering the question, he turned it back: “How does Young Master Feng know the letter was from the Shizi?”
“The Shizi regards Young Master Yu as his teacher of ‘one word’ — this is something the whole world knows.” Feng Xi likewise raised his cup, brought it close to his nose, narrowed his eyes slightly, and breathed in the wine’s aroma. “Besides, ‘Yu silk paper’ is used exclusively by the royal house and the imperial family — could an ordinary person use it for correspondence?”
“Ha — Young Master Feng has sharp eyes.” Yu Wuyuan let out a light laugh and looked at Feng Xi. For just an instant, a wintry sharpness like the breath of autumn cut through the eyes of this man who was habitually as mild as spring wind — but it was gone in a single blink, and when one looked again, he was as ever the gentle, unworldly Young Master Yu, tranquil as water. “The Shizi’s letter contained two good things and one bad.”
“The first good thing is the Xuanzun Token. And the bad thing…” Feng Xi’s gaze dropped slightly, as though examining the white porcelain cup in his hand, and he said with calm understatement: “The bad thing — it would be that the Fierce Wind General has fallen at Xuanshan?”
“Yes.” Yu Wuyuan showed no surprise at how Feng Xi knew this. He reached out a hand and poured the wine remaining in his cup entirely into the Wuyun River below, then said placidly: “Yingzhou has gone ahead. Perhaps tomorrow — it may be the turn of the rest of us.”
“And what is the second good thing?” Feng Xi asked.
“Bai Fengxi.” Yu Wuyuan said without inflection — and as those words left his lips, a faint ripple passed through his habitually still eyes.
“Bai Fengxi?” Feng Xi echoed, and the hand holding his cup nearly gave an involuntary jolt.
“Mm. He says he encountered Bai Fengxi in Nanguo — a woman of incomparable and breathtaking grace!” Yu Wuyuan’s gaze moved lightly toward Feng Qiwu, who stood in the room, and carried with it a faint note of wistfulness.
“How could encountering that woman be called good news!” Feng Xi’s refined composure slipped momentarily, and an expression passed across his face — one that was impossible to say was disappointment or anticipation.
“If one could encounter the Lady Hero Feng, who is known alongside Young Master Feng as Baifeng Heixi, Wuyuan also thinks it would be a rare and fortunate thing in this world!” Yu Wuyuan still spoke with admiration, paying no heed to Feng Xi’s words — as though he held great respect and admiration for this Bai Fengxi as well.
“Alas… in Xi’s view, encountering that woman is the single most ill-fated thing in this world!” Feng Xi set down his cup, losing all interest in drinking — yet his face still wore its light, easy smile.
“Ha — whether it is good or bad depends on the person.” Yu Wuyuan remained unperturbed as ever. The gaze he cast toward Feng Xi carried a faint, inexplicable smile.
*Shuu!* Across the river surface came the sudden, short sound of a flute.
At the sound, Feng Xi’s eyes flickered. He then rose to his feet, bowed to Yu Wuyuan, and said: “Xi has something to attend to — he must go first. May there be occasion another day for the two of us to share a drink again.”
Yu Wuyuan rose and returned the bow, making no move to detain him, and smiled lightly: “Young Master Feng has business to attend to — please go ahead. When fate brings us together again another day, Wuyuan will be the one to extend the invitation.”
“Good.” Feng Xi nodded — then turned around, and found Feng Qiwu still standing there.
“Miss…”
“I’m going with you.”
Feng Qiwu blurted the words out. In that instant, she seemed to see fate nodding at her with a smile, for someone else had again yielded to its arrangement. And in that same instant, she sensed the gaze of that Young Master Yu — who seemed to look at everything as if he saw nothing — pass lightly over her. She almost thought she could hear the faint sigh that rose from the depths of his heart.
She could only smile, helplessly.
This was her tribulation. A tribulation she accepted of her own free will!
“Oh?” Feng Xi raised a brow slightly. “Has the young lady decided?”
“Yes, I have decided — and I will not regret it.” Feng Qiwu’s voice was so low that she thought only she herself could hear it — yet all four people in the room heard every word with perfect clarity. Zhong Li and Zhong Yuan exchanged a glance, and in both their hearts rose the same quiet sigh.
“Then let us go.” Feng Xi smiled lightly, and stepped forward.
Feng Qiwu tightened her arms around the pipa cradled against her — it was the only thing that was truly hers. She turned to look one last time at Yu Wuyuan, gave a slight nod — a farewell, and an expression of gratitude to the one who had seen into her heart in a single instant. Even if her heart could never be known to him, even if it could never be told to another — at the very least, he knew!
She held her head high and walked forward to follow, and in the Sunset Tower, countless eyes watched her go — yet not one reached out to stop her.
On the wooden bridge, the server came hurrying after her, holding out a bundle. “Miss Feng — the owner asked me to give this to you. He says it belongs to you.”
Feng Qiwu took it. A faint shimmer rose in her eyes. She raised her head again — her face was expressionless as ever. “Please convey my thanks to the owner for his care these past years!”
“I will!” The server nodded. “Miss Feng, take good care of yourself.”
“Mm.” Feng Qiwu nodded — then walked toward that black vessel, toward the place that fate had arranged for her… her destination.
From the top of the tower, Yu Wuyuan watched the vessel set sail and drift away. He poured the remaining wine from the jug into his cup, and drank it down in one draught.
“So this is the nature of Hei Fengxi.”
In the tone of his words, it was impossible to say whether it was praise or a sigh.
“Such conduct — not even Huang Chao could manage it.”
Thinking of the look Feng Qiwu had cast behind her as she left, he let out a long, slow sigh. She had seen clearly the thorns that lay on the road ahead — and had chosen to walk it anyway. Whether that was foolishness, or whether it deserved to be called courage, he could not say. He lowered his gaze to his own palm, pressing a fingertip against the lines etched there — and the faintest, most bitter of smiles crossed his face, carrying the loneliness of one who walks a thousand mountains alone.
“I wonder what that Bai Fengxi is like.”
The murmured words trailed off, suffused with a quiet, lingering wistfulness.