In the evening, colorful lanterns were hung high in the air. Thanks to the Plum Blossom Festival, Lu City had remained lively and bustling. While the palace hosted its own festivities, the commoners also had their share of celebrations, and theirs lasted longer—spanning a full half month before concluding.
During this time, the city attracted many scholars and maidens from all over the country and beyond, seeking to connect with like-minded individuals under the inspiration of the festival, showcasing their talents. Several tea houses and social clubs had spontaneously sprung up, providing venues for these intellectual and artistic exchanges.
The entire city was imbued with the delicate fragrance of plum blossoms, their subtle yet refreshing aroma filling the air.
Murong Qiufeng, unfamiliar with the local customs, had spent the past few days resting at the prince’s residence after returning from the palace’s Plum Blossom Festival. It wasn’t until yesterday afternoon, when he strolled around the city with Yun Feiyang, that he learned about the ongoing festivities and their unique cultural significance.
What intrigued Murong Qiufeng wasn’t the gatherings of talented scholars competing in poetry and prose but rather the variety of musical talents from different regions. Each region had its distinct musical style, and he was eager to experience these firsthand.
As night fell, the group found themselves at a tea house, attending an event called “Melodic Ode to the Plum.” The main activity was a musical contest where participants composed and performed impromptu pieces inspired by plum blossoms. These performances were then judged, and the winner would receive a rare scorebook from Master Qingchao, reputedly the foremost musician in Yan Kingdom. The prize was said to be sponsored by a wealthy merchant and came with the honorary title of Master Qingchao’s apprentice.
For music enthusiasts, this prize was akin to a martial artist obtaining a lost swordsmanship manual or being accepted into the highest ranks of the martial arts world. Even though the title was honorary, the prestige was undeniable.
Initially, Murong Qiufeng was interested in the event. However, upon hearing the name of the prize, he became disheartened. He was certain the so-called rare scorebook was a counterfeit since all of Master Qingchao’s surviving works had already been collected by Yun Feiyang for him. Any that hadn’t been acquired certainly wouldn’t bear the name mentioned.
Nevertheless, he decided against exposing the truth. After all, everyone was there to enjoy themselves, and revealing the forgery would only dampen the mood. At most, he could quietly inform the winner later.
“Brother Feng, I heard from Sister Yun (the empress) that Sister Jun often praises your exceptional musical talent. Why not participate and show everyone what you’re capable of?” Zhao Xiru leaned her chin on her hand, watching the performances below. The melodies, whether joyful or melancholic, had begun to bore her. She couldn’t understand why Murong Qiufeng found them so captivating. She’d rather listen to her own nightmares than these tunes.
Yun Feiyang chuckled softly. “If Brother Feng were to join, this contest would probably end prematurely.” He knew Murong Qiufeng’s musical abilities better than anyone. Among contemporary musicians, his skills were unrivaled, comparable only to the legendary masters of the past.
Shangguan Ye raised an eyebrow and, with a faint nod, added, “Indeed.” He had also heard Murong Qiufeng’s music, which surpassed even the melodies of the most celebrated musicians of their time.
Zhao Xiru, initially speaking in jest, now found herself intrigued. Seeing both Yun Feiyang and Shangguan Ye speak so highly of Murong Qiufeng, she looked at him with newfound curiosity. His calm and modest demeanor only added to her impression of his self-confidence.
“Brother Feng, may I have the honor of hearing your heavenly music someday?” she asked hopefully.
Murong Qiufeng smiled and replied, “Heavenly music is an exaggeration, but if you wish to listen, feel free to visit the prince’s residence.”
“Really? That’s great—” Zhao Xiru’s excitement was cut short by a sudden chill. Glancing up, she saw Shangguan Ye’s cold gaze fixed on her. Remembering his warning from the other day, she shivered involuntarily.
Realizing his slip, Murong Qiufeng gave Shangguan Ye an apologetic look, while Yun Feiyang, pretending not to notice the tension, intervened. “Why wait? Once the contest ends, how about borrowing the stage for a performance? It’s been too long since I last heard your music, and I miss it.”
As they spoke, a delicate and ethereal melody began to fill the air. Unlike the earlier performances, this one was far superior, captivating everyone with its beauty.
All but Zhao Xiru, who had little knowledge of music, were taken aback. Murong Qiufeng’s eyes lit up with admiration. “As expected, there’s always someone better,” he mused. Earlier in the day, he had encountered a young woman with extraordinary musical talent, and now, here was another. He was eager to learn who this performer might be.
The audience sat spellbound, reluctant even to breathe too loudly for fear of disrupting the magic. All eyes were fixed on the veiled platform where the musician sat. The faint silhouette revealed a figure unmistakably female, further stirring excitement among the gathered scholars and nobles.
As the piece ended, the room remained silent, the melody lingering in their minds. Murong Qiufeng broke the silence with a low, admiring murmur, “Remarkable.” For the first time in years, he felt an urge to play and connect through music.
Before the applause could fade, another melody began—this one seamlessly complementing the previous piece, like the second stanza of a poem. It evoked the image of red plum blossoms blooming defiantly in the snow, enduring harsh winds with unyielding grace.
Unable to resist, Murong Qiufeng drew the jade flute from his waist and began to play along. His crisp, clear notes intertwined with the melody, enhancing its beauty. Together, the music painted a vivid picture of winter blossoms, enduring storms to herald the arrival of spring. The audience was moved from joy to sorrow, from anger to acceptance, as if experiencing the trials and triumphs of life itself.
By the time the music ended, no one had fully returned to their senses. Even the musician behind the veil appeared startled, curious about the one who had joined her performance so effortlessly. She could only wonder who this refined and masterful individual might be.
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