Chapter 131: Life Is, by Nature, a Fool for Love (II)

Even though Chuxiu resisted the idea of meeting Nie Peixiao, the moment he stepped into the room, she found her gaze drawn to him against her will.

What kind of man was this prince, who had once pierced through the truth, understood her suffering so deeply, and penned "The Broken Vermilion Strings"? They say a single true confidant is enough for a lifetime; in a sense, this Ninth Prince could be considered her soulmate.

As she pondered this, Chuxiu watched Nie Peixiao cross the threshold with his hands clasped behind his back. He stood tall and upright, a faint, inscrutable smile playing on his lips. Though he made a conscious effort to appear refreshed, Chuxiu could tell at a glance that the prince had been hungover all night and had not slept well.

She was accustomed to calling him the "Ninth Prince," for the identity he held when he wrote "The Broken Vermilion Strings" was already etched into her heart. Just as, regardless of how the political landscape shifted, Shen Yu would always remain the dashing and romantic "Young Marquis Shen" in her eyes.

Yet, Chuxiu never imagined that in this life, she would truly meet the Ninth Prince again—and in such circumstances.

"The winds and moon are full, the wine cups clatter in confusion,
I hear constant fawning and coy whispers.
Suddenly, a beauty’s fragrant soul has perished,
The officials present sigh with fleeting sorrow.
I recall the ringing of her jade zither,
Its lingering notes still winding through the rafters.
Falling blossoms drift toward the Xiang River,
Lotus petals weep dew, mocking the fragrant orchids.
A heart of seven apertures should be thus,
A single melody of longing breaks the Wushan clouds.
Human hearts value profit, often holding life cheap,
The world is vast and desolate, life is a heavy burden.
I lack the fate for our zither and flute to harmonize,
You ascend to the highest heavens to play upon the clouds.
No more passionate devotion remains in this world,
Do not let celestial music bring tears to flow."

She would remember—she would always remember—that a royal of high standing had once deeply understood the misery of her life in the brothels and had mourned the "death" of her soul.

As she thought of these things, Chuxiu stared at the Ninth Prince a moment longer than intended. When she finally snapped back to reality, she realized he was looking at her as well.

As their gazes met, an indescribable feeling seemed to surge between them in the dark. A strange sense of familiarity and intimacy welled up, filling Chuxiu’s heart. Was it because of that poem, "The Broken Vermilion Strings"? Or because she had held him in her thoughts for so long?

Chuxiu was certain she had never seen him before, yet for some reason, he felt incredibly familiar. Especially his stature...

She couldn't help but think of the man in purple from the previous night. Could that flute player be him? She speculated, but the thought was dismissed as quickly as it arose. The Ninth Prince looked clearly like someone who had been hungover all night; how could he have crossed the entire Yanlan City to play the flute in the Cloud family's backyard?

However, why would he wear his prince’s ceremonial robes to such a casual meeting? Why so formal? Within a moment, several thoughts flashed through Chuxiu's mind before she bowed gracefully to him: "I, Chuxiu of the Cloud family, pay my respects to Your Highness, Prince Cheng."

Nie Peixiao did not answer immediately. A flicker of gloom crossed his face, and he paused, dazed, before bowing in return: "You are too kind, Madame. I am unworthy of such formalities."

His voice was magnetic, a world away from the muffled, hoarse voice from behind the mask the previous night, which made Chuxiu even more certain that he was not the man in purple.

Meanwhile, Prince Mu was quietly pondering to himself, feeling that his ninth brother was acting strangely today. It was well known that Nie Peixiao preferred purple, a color that suited his commanding and handsome features perfectly. Usually, his ninth brother was a carefree soul, accustomed to living without restraint and often lax with etiquette. Why, then, had he donned his princely robes today?

Prince Mu, of course, did not know that Nie Peixiao was doing this intentionally. He feared that if Chuxiu saw him in purple, she might guess he was the flute player who had intruded the night before. After all, facts were facts, and since they would have no further ties in the future, it was better to keep things distant.

As Nie Peixiao mused, Prince Mu spoke up, teasing, "Are you finally willing to rise? You nearly drank my wine cellar dry last night."

Nie Peixiao coughed lightly, looking awkward. "I apologize for my lack of decorum last night, Seventh Brother. Please don't blame me." As he spoke, he cast a deliberate glance at Chuxiu. Seeing no reaction from her, he felt a sense of relief.

Seeing Nie Peixiao hesitate, Chuxiu assumed he was self-conscious with her present. Recalling that she had already said what she needed to say, she rose from her seat: "I shall not delay you two any longer. Please excuse me."

Before Prince Mu could say "Very well," Nie Peixiao spoke abruptly: "Madame, please wait!"

Chuxiu started, looking at him again. "Is there anything else you require, Your Highness?"

Nie Peixiao was struck dumb, not knowing how to reply. He had called out to her unconsciously, simply wanting to see her for a moment longer—but he hadn't expected to lose his composure so completely.

Searching for an excuse, he finally said, "Er, I merely wished to explain... my proposal to marry the eldest daughter of the Cloud family was, in fact, just a misunderstanding."

A misunderstanding? Chuxiu found it amusing, but she replied with appropriate grace: "It is I who should apologize; it is Xirong who lacks the fortune."

That single sentence left Nie Peixiao speechless again. He felt a sudden, stifling frustration. Looking at that peerless, enchanting beauty, he felt like a mere schoolboy, stripped of his usual pride and ease.

Prince Mu noticed his brother's uncharacteristic constraint and intervened: "Jingduo, you didn't come to see me just to explain a misunderstanding to Madame Chuxiu, did you?"

"Of course not." Nie Peixiao recovered instantly. He lowered his eyes, pondered for a moment, and said with difficulty, "I have disturbed you for many days; I came to bid you farewell. It is nearly the end of the year, and my mother wishes for me to return to Jingzhou to spend the holidays with her."

"Leaving so soon?" Prince Mu frowned. "When you arrived, you said you would stay for two or three months, until after the first month of the new year."

Hearing this, Nie Peixiao glanced at Chuxiu again and feigned calmness. "I have changed my mind. Perhaps another time."

Prince Mu did not press him, adding with a laugh, "What a coincidence, Madame Chuxiu is also planning to head south to Jingzhou."

She was going to Jingzhou, too? Nie Peixiao stole a glance at her, fearing he might miss any expression on her face, yet speaking to her felt like an impossible task. "Madame is also going to Jingzhou?"

Chuxiu nodded. "I have some private matters to attend to, as well as the Cloud family's affairs."

"When do you depart?" Nie Peixiao asked, unable to help himself.

Chuxiu was slightly surprised by his persistence, but answered earnestly, "Probably the day after tomorrow."

The day after tomorrow? The same day he had planned to leave... Nie Peixiao did not know what to make of this—was it joy or sorrow? Joy that he might have another chance to see her, or sorrow that seeing her again would only deepen his own suffering.

He considered himself a witty man, the life of every banquet and a favorite of the Emperor, but in front of Chuxiu, he couldn't find the words. Every polite platitude felt hypocritical and self-indulgent.

Should he say, "What a coincidence, we are on the same path"? Or compliment her beauty? Alas, he could not say a word.

Fortunately, Prince Mu noticed his brother’s distraction and spoke to Chuxiu: "Madame, if you intend to leave the city, you will need my official travel pass. Furthermore, I will write a letter. If you have any needs upon reaching Jingzhou, you may present it to the Metropolitan Guard for assistance."

"Thank you, Your Highness. I am honored to accept." Chuxiu understood his concern; he worried that the Ming family might seek revenge for the release of Cloud Xian from prison, especially given the existing feud with Ming Ying.

She watched as Prince Mu rose to his desk, dashed off a quick letter, and stamped it with his private seal. He folded it neatly and handed it to her. "Please keep this safe, Madame."

Chuxiu accepted the letter, thanked him, and prepared to leave again. Just as the words reached her lips, she remembered one last thing. She signaled for Zhuyang to bring in a long, narrow silk box and handed it to Prince Mu. "My trip to Jingzhou will take at least two months, perhaps longer... There is one more thing I must ask of you."

"Please, speak freely, Madame."

In front of the two princes, Chuxiu opened the box, revealing a precious jade flute. She smiled, "One of my servants found this flute by chance; I do not know whose it might be. Seeing how valuable it is, I fear the owner must be anxious..."

She glanced down at the flute and added, "Could you please help me inquire whose flute this might be? I am a widow and it is inconvenient for me to appear in public, and as I am leaving for the capital, I would like to ask you to return it on my behalf."

A lost flute? Prince Mu instinctively looked at Nie Peixiao, who, as expected, looked flustered and unnatural. He looked down at the flute in the box and recognized its owner at once.

Why was his ninth brother's flute in Madame Chuxiu's possession? And from her demeanor, she clearly had no idea. Prince Mu prided himself on knowing Nie Peixiao well; even if his brother lost his coin purse, he would never lose this cherished possession.

Prince Mu glanced at Nie Peixiao again before taking the box. He turned to Chuxiu and smiled solemnly, "This is easily done. Leave it to me, Madame."

Chuxiu smiled, bid the two princes farewell, and turned to leave. "I should not linger. I must return home to pack." Clutching the travel pass and the personal letter, she bowed and took her leave.

She was leaving? So soon? Nie Peixiao watched the white-clad figure; her face, her grace, her voice, her manner—all were flawless. No wonder the legendary Marquis Lixin had been captivated. He could not tear his eyes away, though he knew it was presumptuous... but...

The thought that she intended to return the flute, coupled with her repeated mentions of his status, left a sour taste in his mouth. Looking at her skin, so fair it was almost blinding, and those shimmering, luminous eyes, he felt himself falling—deeply, irrevocably falling.

Driven by an impulse he could not control, Nie Peixiao blurted out: "Since we are both heading to Jingzhou, I wonder if it would be convenient for you to let me accompany you?" He paused, then added, "I came here in secret, and my return was decided in haste. I haven't had time to make preparations, so I was hoping to share in your journey."