Chapter 76: Familiar Yet Strange

The Ninth Prince, Nie Peixiao, is coming to Yanlan City? Chu Xiu was somewhat perplexed. “Is the Ninth Prince coming here solely to pay respects to the Marquis?”

“Of course not,” the Grand Madam answered, her gaze fixed steadily on Chu Xiu. “The Prince Mu is the seventh among the imperial clan of Nanxi, but his birth was humble; his mother died young, and he was raised at the knee of the Ninth Prince’s mother. So, although they are not true brothers, they share a deep bond. In recent years, Prince Mu has earned many military merits and was enfeoffed in Fangzhou, all thanks to the support of the Ninth Prince’s maternal clan. Now, with the Ninth Prince’s unexpected arrival coinciding with the succession crisis in Nanxi, his intentions are unlikely to be simple.”

She paused, studying Chu Xiu intently before continuing, “But since he has come and requested to pay his respects to Ci’er, you, along with the second and third young masters, must not neglect propriety. Accompany me to meet him.”

Chu Xiu’s lips parted, the word “yes” already forming, but just as she was about to speak, she noticed the Grand Madam’s expression—grave, searching, as though weighing her every reaction. In that instant, Chu Xiu understood: the Grand Madam was testing her!

The matter was clear. Years ago, the Ninth Prince’s “Broken Scarlet Strings,” a poem written for the famed courtesan Han Chu, had spread far and wide, fueling rumors of an entanglement between them. Though Chu Xiu herself had never met the Ninth Prince and their relationship was spotless, how could the Grand Madam believe such claims? Even if she did, how could she tolerate the persistent gossip?

Moreover, while Chu Xiu might not know what the Ninth Prince looked like, that did not mean the Ninth Prince wouldn’t recognize her. On the night she first hung her sign, he had indeed come to show his support. Should they meet now, would it not invite further scandal?

Especially with Yun Qi aware of her true identity as Han Chu—he would seize the opportunity to make trouble and humiliate her anew.

She felt a surge of relief at her own quick thinking and swiftly declined, “Though I am the Marquis’s widow, my position is precarious and not widely acknowledged. It is better…that I do not receive guests. It will suffice for Second and Third Masters to accompany you.”

The Grand Madam smiled, clearly satisfied. “Your consideration shows thoughtfulness. To tell you the truth, I watched you closely just now to see if you could read my hints. You have not disappointed me.”

Chu Xiu felt cold sweat prickling down her back. Forcing a smile, she said, “My lowly birth and disgraceful past have tarnished both the Marquis and the Yun family’s reputation. Rest assured, Han Chu is dead. I will avoid all former acquaintances.”

The Grand Madam raised an eyebrow. “The Ninth Prince has come from afar. Even though the Yun household is in mourning, we must still host him. If you have nothing to do today, remain in Zhiyan Pavilion.”

Chu Xiu accepted the instruction. The Grand Madam then asked, “Are the servants in Zhiyan Pavilion sufficient? Are you used to them?” Her tone had grown noticeably gentler.

“The Marquis’s former servants are all here, and they are well-trained. In fact, I have more help than I need. Perhaps, if any other household is short-handed, I could send some over?” Chu Xiu ventured.

But at this, the Grand Madam’s face darkened. “How can you casually distribute the main branch’s servants? Especially those who served Ci’er! To send them elsewhere would be to slight the main branch, to demean them. Even if their duties are light, they must remain here! When a son is adopted for Ci’er, then they may serve the heir.”

The words were stern, and Chu Xiu could only listen in trepidation. She had not expected the Grand Madam to guard the main branch’s authority so jealously, down to the allocation of servants. And the implication was clear: the Grand Madam agreed with the succession faction—an heir would soon be adopted for Yun Ci.

This was as Chu Xiu had anticipated. She hurried to apologize, “I have misspoken. Please punish me.”

The Grand Madam observed her anxious expression, frowning, then offered a way out. “You have not been long in the household. You were once a maid, and no one taught you. But now you are the Marchioness of Lixin, and there are things you must come to understand.”

Chu Xiu bowed her head deeply, shame washing over her.

The Grand Madam seized the opportunity to add, “Do not resent my shifting warmth and chill. Such is the art of command—sometimes stern, sometimes gentle. You must learn the measure of it.”

“Yes, Madam,” Chu Xiu replied, bowing again. After a few more words of instruction, she was dismissed.

*****

Twilight fell swiftly, and the two honored guests of the Nanxi imperial clan arrived as promised. Shen Yu, adopted son of the Emperor of Tongsheng in Nanxi, shared a bond of brotherhood with the two princes, and so was specially invited by the Grand Madam to join the gathering.

The Grand Madam and Shen Yu had both met the princes before, but Yun Qi and Yun Xian had never laid eyes on the Ninth Prince, Nie Peixiao. At Yun Ci’s wedding the previous year, the guests were so many and their duties so demanding that neither had had the chance to make his acquaintance. They were keen to do so now.

To show respect, the brothers waited at the gate long before the appointed hour. Soon, a modest carriage appeared in the distance, drawing to a halt before the residence. Two men emerged: one in black, one in purple—it was Prince Mu, Nie Peihan, and Prince Cheng, Nie Peixiao. As Nie Peixiao’s title was newly conferred and he had yet to be enfeoffed, people still addressed him by his old title: “the Ninth Prince.”

The brothers regarded them closely. Nie Peihan, lord of Fangzhou, was known for his fondness for black attire, and the brothers had met him many times. Their attention turned to Nie Peixiao.

He wore dark purple robes, his posture upright, the collar and cuffs embroidered with black serpent patterns, a black silk belt woven with gold at his waist—a mark of mourning for the deceased. The Ninth Prince was only in his teens, his phoenix eyes a mirror of Prince Mu’s, clearly inherited from the Emperor of Tongsheng. Yet, his features exuded a rakish, elegant air—one could never have associated him with the phrase “master of both civil and martial arts.”

Prince Mu’s beauty was peerless, neither masculine nor feminine, a mixture of allure and menace.

The Ninth Prince was tall and noble, dashing and masculine, but his face was too debonair, the natural curve of his lips cool and ever-smiling. He looked nothing like a general feared on the battlefield, nor a lover of music—more like a libertine, a charming scoundrel.

For sheer allure, Prince Mu had no equal; for effortless charm, the Ninth Prince surpassed even him. That was Yun Qi and Yun Xian’s mutual judgment.

It was said the Ninth Prince never parted with his xiao flute; that flute had played countless haunting melodies and stolen the hearts of many young women. Yet, he had little ambition for name or gain, repeatedly refusing marriages arranged by his father, claiming that he would only keep concubines of his own choosing and would never be forced into marriage—not even by the Emperor.

As the youngest prince, the Emperor’s late-born son, his carefree spirit only endeared him further to his father. Although he seemed lazy and idle, he understood his limits and responsibilities when it mattered, so the Emperor indulged him.

The Ninth Prince spent his days in the capital, mingling with other young men of rank, frequenting pleasure quarters—his father turned a blind eye. Even when the poem “Broken Scarlet Strings” reached the Emperor’s ears, he was not displeased, but remarked, “Well written.”

But appearances aside, Yun Qi and Yun Xian dared not underestimate him. From his early teens, he had followed his brother Prince Mu into the army. His accomplishments aside, his “Sixteen Styles of Chasing Clouds and Moon” swordplay was already famed, and he had once beheaded the chieftain of the Jiang tribe in battle, earning great renown.

The brothers shivered at the thought, both recalling their fourth aunt, Luan Qing. If truth be told, the Ninth Prince Nie Peixiao was the man who had wiped out her clan.

Yun Xian, regaining his composure first, worried that if Nie Peixiao lingered at the gate, news might reach Luan Qing. He quickly stepped forward. “Please, honored guests, my mother awaits you.”

Nie Peihan and Nie Peixiao exchanged brief courtesies and entered the Yun residence, first paying respects to Yun Ci, then proceeding to a banquet in the Garden of Fragrant Verses. With Shen Yu, a master of social gatherings, enlivening the atmosphere, the private supper was a success.

By the banquet’s end, the moon had risen high. The two princes, after a polite exchange of words, excused themselves, citing the late hour. Yun Qi and Yun Xian were left uncertain of their true intentions, but the Grand Madam, perceiving the hidden meanings, merely smiled and deflected, neither yielding nor resisting.

News of the departure reached Zhiyan Pavilion, where Chu Xiu had not yet gone to rest. In truth, as long as the Ninth Prince remained in the city, she did not dare sleep. She was like a startled bird now, her name inextricably linked to Yun Ci’s. She could not risk any mishap that might tarnish his reputation after death.

Only when assured that the Ninth Prince had left did she finally breathe easy. Perhaps because of this relief, she recalled the time Yun Ci had discussed “Broken Scarlet Strings” with her—and the zither he had gifted her. Since moving into the main residence at Zhiyan Pavilion, she had retrieved it. Tonight, her thoughts were in turmoil, and she suddenly felt a yearning to play.

When all was quiet and the household asleep, she took up her zither, and with the maid Zhuying as her escort, slipped outside in search of a secluded spot to express her sorrow in music.

Wandering aimlessly, she came upon a familiar place. Only after some thought did she remember it was where she had gone the night of Yun Ci’s wedding—and where she had encountered a flirtatious young man in purple. By chance, she had returned to the same spot.

“My lady, this is the Stillness Garden,” Zhuying reminded her.

Indeed, Stillness Garden was aptly named, silent and deserted. The name seemed familiar—Chu Xiu realized with a start: this was where Xia Yanran had fallen into the water, the lotus pond of Stillness Garden.

She looked up at the neglected pond—it was only March, the water barren, making the garden seem all the more tranquil and forlorn.

“My lady…perhaps we should find another place?” Zhuying ventured, concerned.

“No need. This place is perfect; just beyond the wall lies the world outside the Yun estate, and there is nothing to fear,” Chu Xiu replied, setting her zither on the stone table in the pavilion.

She began to play “Song of Youth”—the melody, laden with her longing for Yun Ci, moved even Zhuying, who remembered how, in the distant capital at Chasing Rainbow Court, this very piece had captured their master’s heart and led him to bring Chu Xiu home. If one were to speak truly, this song was theirs—a token of their love.

“Parting is hardest, like rivers flowing East and West, yet they meet again.
Light feelings are like drifting clouds, yet they linger in dreams.
Alas, human affection is thinner than clouds and water, and happy meetings are rare.
Reflecting on the past, so many heartbreaks, yet none like this one.”

The plaintive notes flowed from her slender fingers, filled with tenderness and sorrow. Suddenly, from beyond the wall, a haunting flute joined in—echoing the very melody she played, as if zither and flute were one, perfectly intertwined…