Chapter 35: The Triple Echo of Yangguan—A Thorny Melody

Shen Residence, Stream Garden.

It was Lu Jin’s first time coming to the Stream Garden, and he was truly astounded—how could this place look even more luxurious than the Plum Garden? In the center of the garden lay a lake, its jade-green waves shimmering, mist veiling the cold waters, a few slender boats moored by the banks. Pavilions and gazebos of various styles were artfully scattered around the lake, echoing one another from afar. Winding paths led into secluded corners, blossoms flourished in dazzling profusion, and the air was thick with intoxicating fragrance. Every step revealed a new vista; it was nothing short of a mortal paradise.

Compared to this, his own New Moon Residence was nothing more than a doghouse for a live-in son-in-law. Truly, what a wealthy family!

Lu Jin wandered on, taking in the surroundings with amazement, while continuing to walk alongside Shen Yanxi.

Shen Yanxi had actually wanted to show Lu Jin where she lived, to introduce him to every beautiful corner of the Stream Garden. Yet, try as she might, she couldn’t come up with a suitable reason. At the time, she’d only wanted to complete the wedding as a pretext to refuse the emperor and hadn’t even considered the matter of living together as husband and wife.

After wavering back and forth, she finally chose to yield to fate and truly get to know this man. Yet, by then, a chasm had already formed between them. One lived in a humble courtyard, the other in a refined pavilion. Shen Yanxi, putting herself in his place, could only imagine Lu Jin’s heart must be heavy with displeasure.

But what could she do? Invite him to live in the Stream Garden? Leaving aside whether Lu Jin would agree, even Shen Yanxi found it difficult to say. In name they were married, but the feelings weren’t there; making such a suggestion would only embarrass them both.

Their relationship now hovered in this awkward limbo—seemingly close, yet worlds apart.

Crossing a wooden arched bridge, the two arrived at a lakeside pavilion where several people were already waiting.

“Miss, Young Master!” A graceful young woman in the pavilion saw Shen Yanxi and Lu Jin and immediately rose to greet them.

“Thank you for coming all this way, Qingyin,” Shen Yanxi greeted her warmly.

“Miss, please don’t say such things. I am a musician of the Shen family; it is my honor and good fortune to be summoned,” Qingyin replied, dipping into a polite curtsy.

Lu Jin noticed that Qingyin was not the same woman he had met the other day. There were simply too many women in the Shen residence; they all blurred together in his mind, and he decided not to trouble himself about it.

The two sat down by the low table, Lu Jin without fuss taking a seat at one side, with Shen Yanxi settling on the other. He had to admit, in this world, these couches and tables were practically all-purpose furniture—convenient anywhere and supremely comfortable.

“I’m afraid my memory may be unclear. Please play the piece once more, and I’ll write down the score,” Shen Yanxi said.

Lu Jin had thought he’d be the one playing, with Qingyin to remember it. He hadn’t expected Shen Yanxi herself would do it; then what was the point of calling Qingyin over? Without a word, Lu Jin moved to sit in front of the zither, and as he began to play the flowing melody of “High Mountains and Flowing Water,” his music echoed through the tranquil gardens, the sound lofty and rarefied.

When he finished, he leaned in close to Shen Yanxi, who suppressed her embarrassment and did not move.

It wasn’t that Lu Jin was taking liberties—it was simply that he was deeply curious about the musical notation of this world. After all, he considered himself something of a literary youth.

He stared at the notes on the page, bewildered; the notation looked so complicated! The more he studied, the less he understood.

“Qingyin, why don’t you play it for us from the score?” Shen Yanxi wrote quickly, and, once done, handed the music to Qingyin. Only then did Lu Jin realize this young woman’s usefulness.

Qingyin glanced at the score and began to gently pluck the strings. Even after just a short section, Lu Jin was forced to admit that, as an amateur, he could not compare to a professional; anyone with ears could tell the difference in skill.

“This piece is truly magnificent and elegant, Young Master! You are a man of rare talent!” Qingyin bowed sincerely after finishing.

Oh, come on. One of you can play a piece perfectly after hearing it just once; another can play it flawlessly after a glance at the score. And now you’re praising me? Who are you trying to embarrass? Lu Jin grumbled inwardly, though outwardly he responded politely. Everyone wore two faces.

At least the matter of the score was settled; Lu Jin felt somewhat lighter at heart.

“You must know other pieces as well, Young Master? I wonder if I might have the good fortune to hear more?” Qingyin asked with a smile.

Shen Yanxi’s eyes also brightened, and she gazed at Lu Jin with a gentle smile.

Lu Jin thought for a moment and chose not to refuse. Who knew if he would ever have the chance to play music here again? It wouldn’t hurt to leave a few pieces in this world, rather than let them languish in his own mind. He might as well consider it a parting gift.

He picked up a huqin and rested it on his knees; as his bow drew across the strings, lively notes drifted out, spreading from the pavilion in all directions. The entire Stream Lake seemed to be transported into a secluded mountain valley, alive with the spirit of nature.

The accomplished musician Shen Yanxi widened her eyes in astonishment—this man was unbelievable; he could even play the huqin?

She had thought Lu Jin might just play a few notes to suit the mood, but who would have expected a renowned piece to emerge from his hands? Who could resist such music?

“Young Master, what is this piece called? I love it so much,” Qingyin exclaimed, her eyes sparkling at Lu Jin.

She hadn’t expected that a casual question would elicit such a masterpiece.

“‘Birdsong in the Empty Mountains.’”

“‘Birdsong in the Empty Mountains’—apt, though a bit literal…” Shen Yanxi mused. High Mountains and Flowing Water, Birdsong in the Empty Mountains—her husband truly possessed the air of a hermit.

Lu Jin: …Quite the critic. That’s the original name, you know.

“What made you choose such a piece?” Shen Yanxi asked curiously.

“In the empty mountains, no one is seen, but one hears the echo of birdsong. Such a beautiful scene. Honestly, I’d love to live in such a place—peaceful, elegant…” Lu Jin suddenly caught himself and stopped.

“You wish to become a hermit?” Shen Yanxi looked up at Lu Jin, her eyes shimmering.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Lu Jin replied carelessly.

“I could keep you company,” Shen Yanxi said with a faint smile.

Lu Jin froze, his fingers unconsciously drawing the bow across the strings once more. This time, the notes of “Moon Reflected in the Second Spring” flowed forth, poignant and moving.

Shen Yanxi, watching him play, noticed he didn’t respond to her words and shot him a glance as their eyes met.

Lu Jin quickly turned his attention back to the huqin, feigning ignorance.

“Why is this piece so sorrowful, Young Master?” Both Qingyin and Shen Yanxi were moved to discomfort, the atmosphere turning somber.

“Only by experiencing pain can one face life with greater courage.”

“What is this piece called?”

“‘Moon Reflected in the Second Spring.’”

Lu Jin returned to the instrument table, intending to leave Shen Yanxi with one final piece. He closed his eyes, recalling the melody and its meaning in his mind.

Once ready, he opened his eyes and plucked the strings. The notes of the famed “Three Variations on Yangguan” slowly flowed from his fingertips.

The tones that issued from Lu Jin’s hands were pure and passionate; in the quiet passages, the music seemed to weep and confide, the sorrow of parting faint yet ever-present; in the stirring passages, it soared with heroic ardor, a sense of tragic grandeur overwhelming all in the room.

For a long moment, everyone in the hall was still, closing their eyes without realizing it, immersed in the melancholy of farewell that the music evoked.

…

When the final note faded, Qingyin called out, “Young Master, Young… wait, where is the Young Master?”

Hearing Qingyin’s cry, Shen Yanxi opened her beautiful eyes and looked around; only the ancient zither sat quietly on the table—Lu Jin was nowhere to be seen.

“Miss, where did the Young Master go? We didn’t even get to ask the name of that piece, nor did he write down the score,” Qingyin fretted.

As a musician, how could she possibly let such music slip away?

“And the huqin piece just now—I was so caught up in listening, I didn’t write it down. The Young Master is really too good at torturing people…”

Shen Yanxi turned to look at Lu Jin’s retreating figure, a wry smile on her lips.

Isn’t that the truth—what a tormenting man!

At that moment, Lu Jin’s face was cold and unruffled, yet deep in his eyes, a trace of sorrow lingered, his hurried steps betraying a touch of confusion.

In that fleeting instant, when he set aside the tangled web within his heart, in that chance moment of sudden affection, he found himself thinking—perhaps this was enough.

From strangers to familiarity, that stunning woman who outshone the world was like a spring breeze blowing into his life, beginning to gradually melt the defenses around his heart.

But he could not stay; he had to move forward, never looking back.

They met in summer, and so let their farewell be in summer as well. From this day on, their paths would never cross again.