Xu Fengnian suddenly turned his head and saw a frail figure standing at the end of the alley. His mind raced as he quickly recognized the face—it was the delicate girl from the beef shop, holding a bamboo branch, her slender shoulders trembling uncontrollably, her eyes vacant as she stared at the young master gripping his blade. Xu Fengnian didn’t know whether to laugh or scowl, feeling utterly awkward. If she had been an accomplice of the assassin, he would have killed her without hesitation. But this harmless little girl didn’t even give him the chance to decide—she turned and fled. Xu Fengnian had no intention of pursuing her. A girl from a modest family, she was already brave enough not to collapse in terror. Who would dare gossip about such things? And even if she did, no one would believe her, and even if they did, no one would care.
In Northern Liang, Xu Xiao was practically an emperor, lacking only the dragon-embroidered robes.
Xu Fengnian found the little girl who lived near the temple. She was still struggling with a candied hawthorn stick, likely finding the hawthorn too sour. She had only nibbled off the sugary coating, reluctant to discard the rest but unwilling to eat it either, so she stood there waiting for him. Xu Fengnian unceremoniously took the hawthorn and devoured it in a few bites, then led the girl to a beef shop three streets away, ordering three portions of braised meat. The shopkeeper remained obsequious, but Xu Fengnian didn’t see the bamboo-wielding girl whose name was probably Jia Jiajia.
On their way back to the Liang Manor, Xu Fengnian smiled and said, “Before you go home, I’ll show you something.”
The girl, curious, asked, “What?”
Xu Fengnian replied softly, “Heaven’s secrets cannot be revealed.”
The girl pouted. “My dad says heavenly secrets are all lies.”
Xu Fengnian paid no mind and took her back to the manor, first stopping at the Wutong Courtyard. As soon as he entered, he clapped his hands. At the sound, all the maidservants—Hongshu, Lü Yi, Huanggua, and others—stopped their tasks and rushed out of the building, crowding the courtyard like a flock of chattering birds, their faces alight with anticipation. Though the girl had met Hongshu before, she was still dazzled by the sudden appearance of so many beautiful older sisters. She only heard Xu Fengnian say, “Same rules as usual. Go ahead. Meet here tomorrow around this time.” The sisters burst into laughter, their joy evident as they dispersed.
After sending the bewildered girl back to her quarters, Xu Fengnian walked alone to the “Chu-Shu Bowing Down” Music Hall, a five-story building filled with every imaginable instrument—bells, drums, zithers, chimes, and pipes. There were over a dozen master musicians and more than a hundred sixty lesser musicians, along with countless singers and dancers. All were supported solely by the young master’s wealth. In all of Liang, no one else could afford such extravagance.
The first floor housed a massive set of bianzhong (bronze chime bells), arranged in eight groups of sixty-five bells, their frames towering over two and a half meters tall, suspended in three layers in an L-shape. The largest bell stood as tall as a person and weighed nearly five hundred jin. This was the epitome of luxury—the “feasting amid the chime of bells and tripods” that the nobility prized. The Liyang Dynasty adhered to ancient rites: the Son of Heaven had eight rows of dancers, princes six, nobles four, and scholars two. Thus, the Northern Liang Manor could field a dance troupe of forty-eight.
Xu Fengnian, ever the idler, had once been obsessed with ritual music, particularly the decadent Shu music despised by scholars and the refined Chu music they praised. His ability to charm all the courtesans of Liang wasn’t just due to his wealth.
The bell was the king of instruments.
Xu Fengnian lightly tapped a bell to test its tone, then frowned. The manor’s bianzhong were masterfully crafted, their sound rich and resonant, but they were rarely used, leading to slight tuning discrepancies. Over half of the sixty-plus bells had been cast by him and Xu Wei’er, and he knew their tones intimately. If anyone accused Xu Fengnian of idleness, they wouldn’t be wrong—but crafting bells was far more demanding than leading hounds and thugs to harass commoners. Would he really become a bell-maker someday?
Not just bells—Xu Fengnian had also studied the sheng (mouth organ), working with his prodigious second sister to improve its design from thirteen or seventeen reeds to twenty-four or thirty-six, achieving a sound as pure as a phoenix’s cry.
Xu Fengnian bent down and flicked a bell with his finger. The deep, melodious tone lingered before fading. He whispered, “Come out.”
A double stroke.
From upstairs descended Yu Youwei, who had spent the day playing the yu (a free-reed mouth organ). After the winter solstice, it was a fine day for the huangzhong tuning and the yu’s mellow tones.
She wore a snow-white fox fur cloak, pristine and elegant.
At the door, the little girl Li Zi tiptoed in, having secretly followed the young master to this hall where Chu and Shu music bowed in submission.
She had the fresh charm of a girl next door, but in the Northern Liang Manor, where beauties were as common as clouds, she stood out little. Even the dancers and singers the young master kept as playthings outshone her. Fortunately, she was too young for jealousy, still dreaming of becoming a carefree heroine of the jianghu, blissfully unaware of rivalries.
Grinning, she bounded to Xu Fengnian’s side, marveling at the giant bell. “Xu Fengnian, you know about this stuff too?”
Xu Fengnian smiled. “A little.”
The girl sighed. “I’m terrible. My mom always said I was tone-deaf, worse than the monks chanting at home.”
Xu Fengnian teased, “I learned that when I tried teaching you to whistle.”
She stomped on his foot, but he dodged. Unwilling to give up, she chased him around.
From the staircase, Yu Youwei murmured, “This girl has quite the nerve.”
After some playful scuffling, Xu Fengnian noticed Qingniao at the door, her expression uneasy.
His heart skipped a beat. Placing a hand on the girl’s head, he pointed at Yu Youwei. “Li Zi, stay with Sister Yu for now. I need to fetch someone.”
The girl nodded.
At the door, Xu Fengnian turned back to Yu Youwei. “Take care of Li Zi. Oh, and I’ll need you to perform a sword dance in the next couple of days.”
Yu Youwei frowned but didn’t refuse.
Xu Fengnian sprinted to the Wutong Courtyard, grabbed two boxes of go stones, and raced toward the lake.
A woman walked her horse toward him.
Behind her, the manor’s stewards and servants stood frozen, as timid as mice before a cat.
Xu Fengnian jogged over and shot them a look. The terrified servants scattered like startled birds.
With an ingratiating smile, he asked, “Second Sister, are you tired? Hungry?”
The woman he flattered glanced coldly at the embroidered blade at his waist and remained silent.
Undeterred, Xu Fengnian walked carefully beside her. “Second Sister, I carved a set of go stones for you on Wudang Mountain. Three hundred sixty-one, for your nineteen-line board. Want to see?”
In the manor, everyone knew the eldest daughter, Xu Zhihu, feared the Grand Pillar of State, who in turn feared the young master, who feared Xu Wei’er. It was a chain of fear—except for Xu Wei’er, who feared nothing. As a woman, she had dared to wield a sword on Northern Liang’s battlefields, leaving everyone in awe of her intellect and ruthlessness. Even Jiang Ni, the defiant maidservant, had been thrown into a well for three days and nights by Xu Wei’er. When she was pulled out, the once-vibrant girl looked like a lifeless ghost.
Xu Wei’er ignored the go stones and walked on in silence.
Xu Fengnian called plaintively, “Sister.”
“Am I your sister?”
Xu Wei’er’s voice was icy.
Xu Fengnian kept pace, muttering, “I’m just practicing swordsmanship. Was it worth all this fuss? It’s been over three years since we last met, and you still won’t smile.”
Xu Wei’er struck without warning.
In the twilight, a flash of light.
Xu Fengnian’s left hand stung, and the box of white stones tumbled from his grip. One hundred eighty stones scattered like heavenly blossoms, splashing into the water.
Xu Wei’er walked on, leaving the stunned young master behind. Without turning, she said flatly, “I saw it.”
Clutching the remaining box of black stones, Xu Fengnian watched her go, sighing long after she vanished.
The next day, he visited her at the Luotu Study, but she refused to see him.
On the third day, he finally saw her—after scaling walls and climbing balconies.
She lay on her bed, reading the neglected *Records of Artisans*, ignoring him entirely.
Xu Fengnian grinned and tried to lie down beside her.
Her ancient sword hissed, unsheathing half an inch.
Xu Fengnian sighed. “Second Sister, when will you stop being angry?”
Softly, she replied, “I’m returning to the academy soon. If I don’t see you, I won’t be angry.”
Xu Fengnian blinked. “You’re not staying for New Year’s? Not waiting for Xu Xiao?”
She turned a page silently.
Xu Fengnian fell quiet.
From noon till dusk, he sat with her, then left the austere, snow-cave-like study, placing the lone box of stones behind.
Xu Wei’er rose, ate some snacks, glanced at the darkening sky, and went to the stables for her horse, Chishe. When she decided to leave, she left without hesitation.
Leading her beloved, spiritually attuned steed, she paused, then returned to fetch a small item.
Xu Fengnian stood at the manor gate, watching horse, woman, and sword vanish into the distance.
He didn’t need to check the study to know the box of stones remained untouched.
What was the point?
What woman in this world truly enjoyed wandering alone?
Xu Fengnian climbed to the summit of Qingliang Mountain, where beneath the Yellow Crane Tower, a performance awaited—one so grand it defied description.
It was meant for the little girl Li Zi.
Instead, it became a farewell gift for his second sister.
The *Resplendent Northern Liang Spirit-Suppressing Song* had lyrics penned by Xu Wei’er before her departure.
Xu Fengnian composed the music.
Tonight, Yu Youwei would dance with her sword.
Hongshu, Qingniao, and the others would play the grand ceremonial music.
Lü Yi, Huang Shang, and over thirty musicians would perform on zithers, pipes, and mouth organs.
One hundred sixty singers and dancers would take the stage.
Atop Qingliang Mountain, the lights shone as bright as day.
The entire city could see the brilliance.
The entire city could hear the heavenly chorus.
The people buzzed with excitement: “The young master is hosting another concert!”
Beneath the Yellow Crane Tower, flames blazed like rainbows.
*“Northern Liang’s million households—how many armored bones lie within?”*
*“Fame and glory poured into a jug of wine—how much earth covers kings and generals?”*
*“Hares dart on the hills, foxes sleep in the woods—a tiger’s might devours the land.”*
*“Ten pecks of pearls, red embers in snowy mud—slender hands and willowy waists stand alone.”*
*“A hundred thousand bows, countless slain. A million heads roll on the road.”*
*“Young heroes, don’t boast that the world’s great men bow to you.”*
*“Fair maidens, don’t hide your longing deep in your hearts.”*
*“Come, listen—who strikes the beauty’s drum?”*
*“Come, see—who is the mortal world’s butcher?”*
The *Spirit-Suppressing Song* spanned one thousand and eight characters.
It spread widely through Northern Liang’s armies.
On the city walls stood only three: Xu Xiao, his adopted son Chen Zhibao, and Xu Wei’er, whom they had stopped.
Xu Xiao held a bowl of strong liquor aloft, eyes closed as he listened, his left hand tapping his knee in time.
Chen Zhibao stood solemnly.
Xu Wei’er descended halfway through the song.
In her palm, she clutched a single black go stone, smooth and dark as ink.
At the Yellow Crane Tower, the little girl, witnessing such splendor for the first time, stood speechless. The timid Ben Nanbei beside her fled in terror.
Li Zi stared at the young master reclining nearby, sipping wine leisurely. He wore a purple-gold crown, a white robe, and a crimson mark between his brows—like a carefree celestial immortal.
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