Chapter 9: Melody Amidst the Mountains and Streams

As the melody came to an end, Su Yue glanced nervously at Yan Qitang, seated just before her.

His usually immaculate long hair now resembled a bird’s nest, tousled wildly by the sudden whirlwind. The blue robe, woven from heavenly spider silk, was soaked through, dripping water onto the floor—a result of the waves that had crashed through the room. Within the protective barrier, only the stools occupied by Yan Qitang and Su Yue remained intact; all other furnishings had been utterly destroyed, shattered by the force of sword energy.

The floor beneath their feet, with Su Yue at its center, had begun to split and crack outward in all directions, halted only by Yan Qitang’s timely wood-element spell. Yan Qitang slowly smoothed his hair, lips twitching as he struggled to maintain his perpetually gentle expression.

“How did you manage to turn ‘High Mountains and Flowing Water’ into a veritable natural disaster? And how did a perfectly good support spirit instrument, the Thread-Lifting Zither, end up in your hands as such a destructive weapon? Not one passage was in tune! It was as if you were fluffing cotton, not playing music.”

Unable to hold back, Yan Qitang instinctively reached to slap the table beside him—only to find it missing, destroyed in the chaos.

Awkwardly, he withdrew his hand and glared at Su Yue.

“I’m not good at playing the zither,” Su Yue said, a hint of grievance in her voice. She had warned them before, but was still forced to play, and now she was being scolded for it.

Yan Qitang took a deep breath, recalling that Su Yue had indeed mentioned her lack of skill, but he had thought her simply modest. After all, every personal attendant in his service was expected to master at least one instrument. But it turned out Su Yue wasn’t being humble—she truly couldn’t play.

“With skills like yours, how do you expect to perform on stage in three months?”

Su Yue’s face fell in distress. She could only steel herself and say, “I will practice diligently, young master. I won’t disappoint your expectations.”

At this, Yan Qitang could only shake his head and laugh in exasperation. He raised an eyebrow, giving Su Yue a once-over.

“I hope so,” he said, rising from his seat and preparing to leave. Before he departed, he reminded Su Yue to kneel here and reflect on why her performance had been so atrocious.

Just then, Shu Qin arrived. Surveying the barrier and the wreckage left in the wake of Su Yue’s playing, she was left speechless by the devastation.

Yan Qitang glanced at Shu Qin, then tapped Su Yue thrice on the back of her head, enunciating each word: “Good! Good! Practice! The! Zither!”

With a sweep of his sleeve, he strode away without looking back.

Shu Qin had originally come to report on Wen Xueyi’s situation, but seeing Yan Qitang’s obvious displeasure, she dared not bring up the matter.

“What have you done this time?” Shu Qin asked.

“I played the zither for the young master,” Su Yue replied glumly.

“Heavens, others use their hands to play music; you use your life,” Shu Qin remarked, marveling at the cracked floor and ruined furniture.

Su Yue shot her a glare. Did she really have to say that out loud?

Still, the reactions of Shu Qin and Yan Qitang had snuffed out the budding spark of artistic interest within Su Yue. She couldn’t help feeling dejected. She had only just begun learning the instrument recently, and her slow progress was painfully apparent.

By evening, Su Yue had been moved outside to kneel in the courtyard, as the stewards needed to repair the hall. She could only kneel outdoors.

“What did I do to deserve this?” Su Yue muttered, staring up at the sky. “Back in the modern world, I could command the winds and rain. Now, I’m scrubbing toilets every day. Just when I thought I’d finally escaped my janitor’s fate and been promoted to senior administrator, my boss is dissatisfied once again. I finally obtain a decent cultivation technique, only to spend my days locked in a pill furnace, worse off than the Monkey King himself. At least he got to fight monsters—while I’m trapped here in the Yan residence.”

A sudden thought struck Su Yue as she gazed at the sky.

“Wait a moment, the Monkey King?”

She recalled how, before leaving, Yan Qitang had tapped her on the back of the head three times. Wasn’t this the same routine as when the Monkey King became a disciple of Patriarch Bodhi?

“Here’s hoping the original author was a devoted fan of Journey to the West. Amitabha,” Su Yue murmured, bowing perfunctorily toward the ancestral altar in the courtyard before rising briskly to her feet.

Carefully, she avoided the patrolling guards. Unbeknownst to her, every move she made was being watched by someone.

She slipped into Yan Qitang’s private quarters, only to find the lamps already extinguished. Su Yue hesitated, then circled to the window at the back and tapped lightly on the paper pane.

“Young master? Young master? I’ve come to learn the zither,” she whispered.

Inside, Yan Qitang sat cross-legged on a meditation cushion. Though his eyes were closed, his pupils flickered beneath the lids.

“Young master?” Su Yue tapped again.

This time, Yan Qitang opened his eyes. Just as Su Yue was about to tap for a third time, the window was suddenly pushed open from within, nearly striking her on the head and causing her to stumble back.

“What brings you here?” Yan Qitang’s tone was gentle as ever.

“Before you left, you tapped me three times on the back of the head—wasn’t that your way of telling me to come to you at midnight?”

Even Su Yue felt this explanation was a stretch, but replaying their earlier interaction in her mind, she realized those three taps had been oddly deliberate. After all, she wasn’t a mischievous monkey, nor was Yan Qitang her master. The gesture seemed strangely out of place.

“I never asked you to come at midnight. You’re here of your own accord. Still, since you’re so eager, I’ll give you a solution,” Yan Qitang replied, smiling as he tossed her a jade pendant.

“I’ve repurposed this as a sound-transmitting device. During the Hundred Flowers Banquet, raise a gauze canopy around yourself, assume a zither player’s posture, and channel your inner energy into this jade. I’ll handle the actual playing. This year, not a single family from Jiang or any other house will walk away from my Yan clan with a prize!”

Wasn’t this the legendary ‘fake playing’? She’d seen this countless times in period dramas—actresses plucking the guqin while the soundtrack was clearly that of a guzheng. Su Yue’s eyes lit up with delight and she nodded enthusiastically.

“Don’t get too pleased with yourself just yet. For the next two months, you’ll do nothing but practice your posture and master every movement of ‘High Mountains and Flowing Water.’ Even though it’ll be night and you’ll be surrounded by gauze curtains, there are always sharp-eyed onlookers. If you’re not prepared, you’ll be exposed.”

Su Yue assured Yan Qitang of her utmost dedication, but raised one concern: what if, during her performance, the Thread-Lifting Zither’s lack of magical effect gave her away? After all, many had witnessed her destroy the room with her ‘music’ earlier that day.

Yan Qitang frowned, then nodded. “You’ll need to control your spiritual energy with utmost precision, especially when touching the zither. I’ll place a silencing charm nearby, but I can’t suppress the zither’s natural magical resonance.”

Su Yue looked at the Thread-Lifting Zither before her, sighing in frustration.

“Don’t be daunted. Here’s what we’ll do: you’ll practice at the Moon Lotus Pond from now on. It’s secluded and rarely visited. Since you’re taking full advantage as the host, you might as well make clever use of your privileges.”