A thousand years before the Era of the Ashen Wheel, decade of the Sleeping Frost.
The veil of night was falling, two moons hung in the firmament.
The Milky Way, like an overturned ribbon of silk, traversed the sky, pouring down its pure clarity, and a silver frost covered the ground.
The gates of the Imperial City were slowly closing.
A dapple-gray horse emerged from the darkness and entered a secluded forest path. On its back, a young man dressed in an ink-black robe carried a qin on his back. The moonlight split his shadow, stretching it long, before it discreetly vanished into the depths of the whispering pines.
In the capital, Jinxiujing, however, a gentle and serene atmosphere reigned.
It was the night of the Girls' Festival.
Willow branches trembled gently in the wind; children's laughter and women's whispers intertwined in the darkness.
The water reflected the dappled glow of lanterns; a river of lanterns flowed downstream, resembling a flowing river of stars.
Zhang Huaiqian stood by the water's edge, hands behind his back, his tall figure outlined by the moonlight. This young man, about twenty years old, had clear and refined features. Every gesture revealed the confidence and bearing of a son from a prominent family, yet he also possessed a kind of discreet valor absent in ordinary young nobles.
Beside him, his younger sister, Zhang Wei, was bent over, arranging a river lantern. Three paces behind them, Dugu Rong stood motionless, like a painting.
Wei, crouching by the water, unfolded the wish she had long written on the lantern: "May I soon find the ideal husband."
She lit the wick. The flickering flame reflected in her bright eyes. This fourteen-year-old girl still retained a touch of naivety, but her gestures already hinted at the delicate grace of a young woman.
She gently pushed the lantern into the water, watching it drift away with the current, and asked in a low voice: "Brother... do you truly believe that deities exist in this world?"
Zhang Huaiqian was surprised for a moment, then let out a laugh: "What? Is it only when you have a request for them that you wonder if gods exist? The Classics have long taught us not to believe in prodigies, violent forces, disorder, and spirits."
Wei puffed her cheeks and mumbled: "One must have some hope to cling to."
She looked up at Rong behind her and called out with a smile: "Rong, come release one too!"
Dugu Rong hesitated for a moment, then replied softly: "Miss... I don't need to."
Zhang Huaizian interjected with a smile: "Today is your festival, young ladies. There's no harm in joining in on the occasion." Saying this, he handed her the river lantern he was holding.
"Yes, Young Master."
Rong'er thanked him respectfully, then turned and sat quietly under a weeping willow. The moonlight bathed her simple skirt like a delicate layer of frost. She took the lantern, thought for a moment, then finally took her brush and wrote four characters on it: "Wandering fish returns to the pond."
The ink was not yet dry. She lowered her head to gaze at the words, an emotion as fleeting as the moon's reflection in water floating in her eyes.
A small flame lit up. She gently pushed the lantern into the water.
Zhang Huaiqian stood beside her. His gaze fell on the four characters, and he asked in a low voice: " 'Wandering fish returns to the pond'... what does that mean?"
Dugu Rong looked up when she heard him, a faint smile appearing at the corners of her lips: "It's nothing, I just find that this lantern looks like a paper fish, floating with the waves, and it must have a place to return to."
"A place to return to..." Zhang Huaiqian repeated in a low voice, his expression fleetingly changing. In the end, he asked no more questions.
Suddenly, a qin melody pierced the silence.
First like a clear spring in a secluded ravine, then like floating clouds wrapped around the moon, it pierced through the tumult of the mundane world and spread successive ripples across the river's surface. The rowdy children stopped, the chatting women held their breath. The entire riverbank gradually sank into a strange tranquility. An unfinished melody, yet it already captivated souls.
"Who is playing the qin like that?" Wei exclaimed in a low voice. "It sounds like... he's telling a very, very long story."
Dugu Rong did not reply, merely listening attentively, her eyes reflecting the color of the water and the starlight, her expression as calm and deep as the night waves.
Zhang Huaizian concentrated for a moment, straining his ears to distinguish the source of the sound. After a while, he said in a low voice: "...it sounds like Su Jing's technique."
"Who is Su Jing?" Wei asked.
Zhang Huaizian replied: "A qin musician in the service of His Highness the Crown Prince. When I was studying at the Hongwen Pavilion, I had the opportunity to hear his melodies several times. Originally from Jiangnan, he was a hermit. Three years ago, he was summoned to the palace and assigned to the Music Bureau, but he only played the qin for the Crown Prince. His qin artistry was unparalleled in his time; in the palace, he was privately nicknamed 'The most beautiful melody in the world of men'."
Wei asked in a low voice: "Have you heard him before?"
Zhang Huaizian paused, then his voice deepened: "Of course. The Crown Prince listened to him almost every day. Su Jing rarely appeared in public. If it's not him playing, then this melody, 'Prelude of the Pine under the Moon'... is not far from his virtuosity."
"How do you know all this in such detail?"
Zhang Huaizian coughed lightly, his tone half-serious, half-joking: "I study at the Hongwen Pavilion every day, so I inevitably hear gossip that others don't."
Wei gazed into the distance, pensive: "So... why would he be in the mountains now?"
Zhang Huaizian shook his head, his brows slightly furrowed: "I don't know. It's just that the sound of the qin is so authentic, it doesn't sound like anyone else's."
The qin melody continued, flowing like water, evoking a stream under the moon. The three of them, captivated by this ethereal sound, remained silent for a long time.
Dugu Rong slowly took out a small notebook she carried with her and, by the moonlight, transcribed the qin melody into musical notation. The tip of her brush flew, and a melody took shape.
That night was like a poem, the qin music like a dream, the river lanterns like stars, the figures motionless. The lights by the water and the darkness of the night blended into perfect harmony.
In the early morning, after a clearing, the mist had not yet dissipated west of the flourishing capital. The first light of dawn was barely breaking, morning fog lingered west of the capital, and the blue stone slabs of the road were still damp with night dew. In front of the large, vermilion-lacquered gate of Prince Cheng's mansion, Prince Rui - Chu Jin, and Zhang Huaizian had already been waiting for quite some time.
Chu Jin tightened his cloak. His face was a bit pale, but his eyes still held a gentle smile, appearing particularly cold in the morning mist. Zhang Huaizian, without a sound, moved his horse half a step closer and said in a low voice: "Your Highness, the Chen hour (7-9 AM) will soon pass."
"It doesn't matter," Chu Jin replied, looking at the closed mansion gate.
Zhang Huaizian frowned slightly. This Prince Cheng, although the Empress's legitimate son, was truly extravagant – making his elder brother wait outside for an eternity, and the servant sent to announce their arrival had still not reappeared. He was about to insist again when Chu Jin raised a hand to stop him: "Prince Cheng has just established his own residence; it's normal for him to still have a youthful spirit."
Barely were these words spoken when the mansion gate creaked open. Prince Cheng, Chu Xuan, appeared, dressed in a loose and ill-fitting brocade robe, his topknot askew, resembling a wild cat forcibly dragged from its den.
"Brother Jin..." he drawled, squinting at the sun just peeking over the horizon, "to come and disturb people's sleep at this hour?"
Zhang Huaiqian bowed.
"It was Zijing who said that the scenery in the forest, when the morning mist has not yet dissipated, is the most beautiful," Chu Jin said softly.
「Each person （especially male）at Xu Empire had a name ('míng') given at birth, used by family and close ones. Upon reaching adulthood, they were given a courtesy name ('zì'), used in social and public relations. For example, Zhang Huaiqian ('Zhang' is his family name, 'Huaiqian' his personal name) had the courtesy name 'Zijing,' used out of respect or in formal contexts.」
"So it was you who said we should go out early?" Prince Cheng squinted at Zhang Huaiqian, but the next moment, he smiled. "Refined beautiful minds like this kind of elegant scene."
Zhang Huaiqian bowed slightly and said: "This servant spoke presumptuously."
Prince Cheng approached Chu Jin and whispered in his ear: "Last night, I finally managed to meet the musician Xue Yao... we partied until the third watch... I've barely slept two hours..."
Chu Jin smiled faintly without replying, but his gaze brushed past Zhang Huaizian.
Prince Cheng followed his gaze, a teasing glint appearing in his eyes, and, lifting a corner of his lips, he smiled: "Zijing, last month, that Xue Yao begged you again to write verses for her. As a result, she composed a new melody, and last night, to get her to come, even I, your Prince, had to shell out an extra string of cash!"
Zhang Huaiqian lowered his head slightly: "Prince Cheng has incurred expenses. Miss Xue has always respected and cherished fine literature; if she consents to set my humble verses to music, it is already a fortune for me."
He knew that Prince Cheng was not fundamentally bad, but he was still young and had been pampered since childhood. This nobility and ease had come to him too easily, so much so that he had never learned to measure his words.
The group slowly rode on horseback onto a secluded path in the forest northwest of the capital. The morning dew had not yet dried, and the horses' hooves made a slight rustling sound as they trod on the damp grass. The fresh forest air, mixed with the damp scent of the earth, was invigorating.
"Is everyone here?" Prince Cheng asked, yawning lazily and squinting on his mount. "Brother Jin, who else did you invite today?"
"The new Zhuangyuan (top scholar in the imperial examinations), Nangong Bo," Chu Jin replied, holding the reins firmly. "I met him by chance at a bookseller's the day before yesterday, and we had a very pleasant conversation. This man is well-versed in poetry and the classics, and he said he would bring some good tea from his native region. He comes from the East City; the journey is longer, so he will probably arrive a little later."
Hearing this, Zhang Huaiqian's gaze shifted slightly, brushing against the dappled morning light filtering through the forest, but he said nothing.
A mischievous glint flashed in Prince Cheng, Chu Xuan's eyes. He turned his horse and smiled: "Since the results were proclaimed, why do I get the impression that Brother Zijing is always a bit distracted? Could it be that the worthy Bangyan (second in the examinations) still holds a grudge in his heart?"
Zhang Huaiqian gave a faint smile and replied calmly: "The Zhuangyuan and the Bangyan both deserve their titles. I have read Nangong's political essay; his views are original, and his literary style is brilliant. Coming from a modest family, to succeed in the three successive examinations is truly admirable."
Prince Cheng raised an eyebrow, incredulous: "If you truly find yourself so untalented, then the Tanhua (third in the examinations), Han Yi, wouldn't know where to hide? He is my brother the Crown Prince's study companion, and this time, you surpassed him. At the Crown Prince's Palace, I'm afraid that..."
Zhang Huaiqian lightly tapped the reins with his fingers, ever respectful: "Brother Han is from the Han family of Yongzhou; his erudition far surpasses mine. This ranking is merely a matter of personal taste."
Chu Jin interjected opportunely: "That Zijing can rank among the top three is already remarkable. In competitions, talent counts for three parts, luck for seven. Moreover, the Crown Prince has always appreciated talent; Han Yi will certainly have a great future."
"Could it be Prime Minister material?" Prince Cheng sneered, half-serious, half-joking. "Then I'll have to talk to him in advance, so he can save me a spot in the Central Secretariat."
He suddenly turned to Zhang Huaiqian, his eyes sparkling with mischief: "Your father is the Grand Academician of the Hongwen Pavilion and Head of the Central Secretariat. If he wanted to pave the way for you, why go to so much trouble to take the exams yourself? For what purpose?"
Zhang Huaiqian's expression remained unchanged, his tone peaceful yet firm: "The path of public service requires legitimacy and righteousness above all. If I did not go through the trial of the examinations, how could Huaiqian establish himself at court?"
"But even after succeeding, aren't you still working as a proofreader at the Hongwen Pavilion?" Prince Cheng insisted. "What difference does it make?"
A silence fell in the forest. The knuckles of Zhang Huaiqian's fingers whitened slightly.
Chu Jin's gaze moved between the two men. Softly, he said: "What Zijing seeks is not a fleeting position."
Prince Cheng shrugged and muttered: "I'd like to see who this saintly Zhuangyuan, Nangong, is."
Prince Rui shook his head with a slight smile and nudged his horse forward.