Qingyao was unaware of the Prince of Nan'an's internal turmoil. Her thoughts drifted back to Lin Simiao. Thinking of them reminded her of Wuqing. Without Wuqing, she would have nothing today. Even with all her abilities, she would have been helpless.
Wuqing?
The mere thought of this man brought a pang of sadness to her heart. Was he alright in whichever world he was in? He, who refused to kill that detestable man even at the cost of his own life, was truly nothing like his name. Wuqing—true Wuqing—was deeply emotional. It was precisely this emotional depth that kept him controlled by Hua Wenbo, and that damned man had held his weakness, allowing him to act with impunity.
Hua Wenbo, we will meet again soon. I will leave you with nothing.
Qingyao remained silent, her expression serene. She proceeded towards the inner chambers, followed by Mochou, who dared not speak a word.
It wasn't until they were inside the inner chambers that Qingyao returned to her usual self. She turned around curiously to look at Mochou behind her. Why had this girl been so quiet?
"Mochou, what's wrong?"
Mochou's heart was heavy. Her Moyou was gone forever. The person now in the palace was Shen Yu, the new emperor of Huangyuan. The thought brought her immense pain, and her face was etched with dejection.
"Mistress, it's nothing. I'm just very tired."
Previously, she had been consumed with worry for Shen Yu's safety and the challenges he would face, leaving her no time for other thoughts. His ascension to the throne meant he was no longer the Moyou she knew, but the new Emperor of Huangyuan.
Only when everything had settled did she realize with a jolt that she had lost more than just a person; she had lost a deep affection from her heart.
Even if she didn't say it, Qingyao knew what worried her. She walked unhurriedly to the carved table and sat down. Mochou poured her a cup of tea and stood by quietly.
"Mochou, if you are worried about him, I can leave you here to be with him."
This was all she could do. As for their future, that was a matter of their own destinies.
However, Mochou had her own principles. She was merely a servant, having sold herself to her mistress. How could she stay and be with Shen Yu? Besides, the person she loved was Moyou, not Shen Yu.
"Mistress, I will not stay. I will always accompany you."
Mochou refused Qingyao's suggestion, but the loneliness on her face remained. Perhaps her thoughts would eventually clear, but the tangle of emotions in her heart was not something she could let go of so easily.
"Why are you putting yourself through this?"
"Never mind. Let's not think about it. Aren't you tired, Mistress? You should rest for a while."
Mochou spoke respectfully, not wanting to continue the topic. Since she didn't wish to discuss it, Qingyao didn't press her. They talked for a while, and then Qingyao went to bed to rest.
The vast inner chambers fell silent. Mochou watched her mistress fall asleep and then sat by the window, gazing at the drifting flowers that seemed like a dream. She remained motionless for a long time, like a petrified sculpture.
In the evening, Shen Yu sent a surrender letter. Due to matters concerning the former emperor, he could not deliver it personally and sent a eunuch instead. The eunuch, being illiterate, mistook it for an ordinary letter and delivered it.
Qingyao was delighted to receive the surrender document. Having slept through the afternoon, she felt refreshed and in high spirits. She handed the surrender letter to Liu Zhao. Only she, Liu Zhao, and the Emperor knew about this matter. Even the two ministers were unaware of the details, to prevent any leaks that might cause unnecessary trouble for Shen Yu.
After dinner.
They strolled in the courtyard, where small bridges and flowing water, jade pavilions and ornate halls were bathed in moonlight, creating a breathtaking scene.
Under such moonlight, Qingyao suddenly felt inspired. She stopped, leaned on the carved railing, and looked at Mochou behind her, "Go and get my zither. I want to play a tune."
"Yes, Mistress."
Mochou left quickly and returned to the room to fetch the zither.
Liu Zhao accompanied her as they walked towards the small pavilion ahead.
The night breeze picked up, cool and refreshing, gently rippling the lake's surface, creating mesmerizing waves.
This scene and ambiance made one's heart feel warm. Liu Zhao's deep pupils flickered with adoration. He wanted to selfishly accompany her tonight, for perhaps they would return to the capital in the next two days.
"Qingyao, are you cold?"
The usually icy demeanor of the Prince of Nan'an softened, his tone surprisingly gentle. Qingyao was a little surprised, but feeling good tonight, she didn't pay much attention to his change. She slowly nodded, "No, it's early summer. Although the wind feels a bit cool, it's quite comfortable."
As they spoke, they entered the small pavilion.
Mochou also brought the zither and set it up, signaling for her mistress to begin.
A gentle breeze stirred the flowing gauze, her dark hair was elegantly tied up, tassels swaying lightly, soft and delicate. A thin veil covered her face, revealing only a pair of soul-stirring eyes that seemed to possess a captivating power. A single glance was enough to fall deeply under their spell, unable to break free.
Her fair hands caressed the zither, and moving melodies filled the air.
The figure of Wuqing, and his final smile as radiant as peach blossoms, surfaced in her mind. Her heart ached, and a mist gathered in her eyes, dispersed by the wind.
The zither seemed to absorb her emotions, turning mournful, soft, and winding, like a woman's sob, filled with heartbreaking pain, and reflecting a heart scarred by sorrow.
It brought pain to the player and an inexplicable sadness to those who listened.
Prince of Nan'an, Mu Rong Liu Zhao, felt a pang in his heart. For whom was she sorrowful? Who was the one who touched the strings of her heart?
Mochou knew her mistress must be thinking of Young Master Wuqing. She sighed softly. Life was unpredictable, and in the end, it was always women who were hurt.
As the night deepened, Qingyao's zither music drifted far. Her slender, jade-like fingers moved ceaselessly, slowly emerging from sorrow. Suddenly, the tempo quickened, and the melody of "High Mountains and Flowing Water" began to play, melodious and pleasant.
Suddenly, someone spoke from outside the pavilion.
"Who is playing the zither here?"
The voice was sharp, arrogant, and overbearing.
The music abruptly stopped. Her fingers pressed down on the strings with such force that the silk fibers dug into her fair fingers, and blood dripped down.
Mochou let out a soft exclamation and rushed forward, holding her hand anxiously. "Mistress, are you hurt?"
Qingyao pulled her hand away, elegantly taking a silk handkerchief from her sleeve to wrap it. Her gaze pierced through the veil, shifting towards the outside of the pavilion. Several figures stood there, led by Ji Xue, with a few personal guards behind her.
A maidservant stood outside the small pavilion and respectfully announced, "It is a maidservant of the Prince of Nan'an playing the zither."
Nominally, both Qingyao and Mochou were maidservants to Prince Nan'an, Liu Zhao. Qingyao's face was covered by a veil, and Mochou had undergone simple disguise. Moreover, their group had not yet had direct contact with the Danfeng Kingdom, so no one was suspicious.
Indeed, Ji Xue let out a cold snort, "A mere maidservant, what an elegant pastime."
Saying this, she led her people away. After a few steps, she suddenly remembered something. The zither music was so beautiful. Could a maidservant play such exquisite music? Furthermore, the melody carried a sense of familiarity. Who could it be?
Ji Xue thought hard, finally recalling Wuqing. Yes, Wuqing's zither skills were unparalleled in the world, but Wuqing was dead. So, apart from him?
Her expression suddenly turned icy. Could it be that woman?
Mu Qingyao. She was actually hidden within the envoy delegation. Then, one of the Prince of Nan'an's maidservants must be her—the woman behind the veil?
It seemed that the unpredictable winds and clouds of the Huangyuan Kingdom were all stirred up by this woman. Wherever she was, there would be no peace.
Ji Xue thought bitterly, then suddenly turned around and shouted indignantly, "Mu Qingyao, so it was you! I didn't expect you to be hiding behind the Prince of Nan'an. What is it you're hiding, sneakily? Are you afraid that others will know you've become as plain as a wallflower, and have no face to be seen, hence your hiding?"
As the words fell, the surroundings fell silent. Prince of Nan'an, Mu Rong Liu Zhao, standing in the pavilion, was about to erupt. But the person beside him suddenly leaped up. With a light touch of his toes on the stone bench, he crossed the pavilion and landed directly in front of Ji Xue. His face was icy cold as he glared at her, speechless for a long time.
His eyes seemed to be stained with blood mist, emitting a faint red glow.