Zhou Li gently brushed the wooden zither and thought carefully.
Hmm… what should I play?
Suddenly, a melody popped into his mind.
“Hehe, original host, in my world there is a song that perfectly expresses your feelings,” Zhou Li muttered to himself.
At that moment, Xu Jiuying curved his lips into a faint smile and said softly to Madam Hong, “Madam Hong, may I ask whether Miss Xiangxiang has taken any interest in me?”
His voice was gentle and courteous, carrying a hint of expectation.
Madam Hong chuckled lightly, seemingly unsurprised by his question. “Please wait a moment while I ask our Xiangxiang.”
Before her words fully fell, her figure flashed and she slipped into a room on the third floor like a streak of light.
Time passed slowly as everyone waited quietly for her response.
At last, after quite some time, Madam Hong emerged from the room.
A trace of apology showed on her face as she said slowly, “I am truly sorry, Young Master. Although your zither skills are indeed superb and worthy of admiration, regrettably our Xiangxiang did not feel a special connection.”
Xu Jiuying did not display much disappointment. He simply smiled faintly and replied calmly, “If that is so, then it seems Miss Xiangxiang and I are simply not fated.”
His tone was steady, as though he had already prepared himself for this outcome.
However, the guests below began to grow restless.
“Even Young Master Xu’s extraordinary performance could not move Miss Xiangxiang?”
“Looks like no one tonight will win her favor.”
Voices rose one after another, and the hall became somewhat noisy.
At that very moment, Zhou Li began to play the melody that had surfaced in his mind.
A lingering tune spread instantly through the air, utterly different from what they had heard before. It carried a deep emotion and sorrow unlike any previous piece.
Xu Jiuying, who had just begun to leave with a hint of loneliness, stopped and listened carefully.
A flicker of surprise passed through Madam Hong’s eyes, and the once noisy crowd gradually fell silent.
As the melody rose toward its climax, it seemed to recount a hidden tale of love and hatred.
In the vision conjured by the music, a man stood in the dark of night, holding a long sword, his body drenched in blood. Corpses lay scattered around him.
As he wiped the blood from his blade, a torrential rain suddenly poured from the sky.
At that moment, an oil-paper umbrella appeared above his head, shielding him from the storm.
He looked up and saw a graceful woman standing beside him, holding the umbrella.
Her long hair cascaded like a waterfall against her pale skin. A white dress fluttered gently in the wind, as if she were a fairy descending to the mortal world.
Her gaze fell upon him, gentle yet unwavering, as though she wished to speak. But the man coldly turned his head away and continued wiping his sword, showing no gratitude for her presence.
Even so, she did not leave. She followed him silently, step by step.
Wherever he went, she remained close behind, as if her world contained only him.
Days passed, and their relationship slowly changed.
The man gradually grew accustomed to her presence, and she cared for him with quiet tenderness.
They weathered countless storms together. He protected her; she tended to him. They supported and redeemed one another.
Yet fate delights in cruelty.
Just when the man believed they could continue this way forever, his enemies came seeking vengeance.
A fierce battle was unavoidable. He fought with all his strength, but he was ultimately outnumbered.
As he fell into despair, a sudden sharp pain pierced his back.
He turned in shock and saw the woman holding a dagger, deeply embedded in his body.
His eyes widened in disbelief. He could not understand why she would betray him at this moment.
A trace of pain and determination crossed her face. Her lips trembled, as though she wished to explain, yet in the end she said nothing.
The man slowly collapsed, his blood staining the earth beneath him.
His consciousness blurred. Darkness consumed his vision.
Yet he did not die.
Perhaps heaven took pity on him, or perhaps his unwilling heart refused to yield. Miraculously, he survived.
From that day onward, his heart filled with grief and hatred.
Years passed. His power reached its peak.
He embarked on a path of revenge, personally killing his enemies one by one, including the woman who had betrayed him.
As she lay dying in his arms, she revealed the truth.
On the eve of her arranged marriage, her fiancé had been murdered, and the killer was the very man she had followed.
To avenge her fiancé, she had infiltrated his side. Over time, as days passed, she developed genuine feelings for him.
When she stabbed him, the dagger had been coated with a drug that induced temporary death. She had deliberately avoided his vital points, hoping he would survive and begin a new life.
After saying everything, she died in his arms.
Later, the man discarded his sword and spent every day and night guarding her grave.
The greatest sorrow in this world is this:
To remain unmoved, only to regret too late.
To love each other, yet be toyed with by fate.
To love but not obtain, to obtain yet lose.
A golden and jade union, yet destined to be apart.
…
Inside the third-floor chamber, Hai Wenxiang’s once calm expression rippled with emotion. Unconsciously, she walked to the window and looked toward Zhou Li.
When the piece ended, the crowd was still immersed in its lingering resonance. Many women in the hall had tears in their eyes.
Hai Wenxiang spoke slowly, her voice soft yet clear. “I very much like this young master’s piece.”
Madam Hong’s face lit up with delight. She quickly called toward the second floor, “Young Master, our Xiangxiang is most taken with you.”
Zhou Li’s lips curved upward. For women like these, born of passion and entangled in emotion, playing heroic and peerless war ballads would not move them in the slightest.
It was songs of love and heartbreak that stirred their interest.
In any case, the plan has succeeded.
Zhou Li slowly rose to his feet. It was time to have a conversation with the Saintess of the Joyous Harmony Demonic Sect.