Chapter 24

The lute music was abruptly cut short.

It was Chang Xingzhu who spoke up: "Can you stop playing! Are you slaughtering a pig at the break of dawn?"

Song Qianfan was quick to react: "He isn't talking about you."

Wen Biesang stroked the strings, a flicker of doubt crossing his mind regarding his own musical prowess: "I suppose it is because I haven't practiced in many years, and my skills have grown rusty."

"May I ask when you last played?"

"Fifteen years ago."

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen."

Song Qianfan nodded: "Understandable, quite understandable."

He pondered, struggling to find the right words.

Wen Biesang continued: "My mother said I had a great talent for the lute, though I was young and disinterested in the craft, so I never refined it. However, it shouldn't be difficult to pick back up."

"...Back then, my mother also told me I was great at everything."

"What?" His voice was too soft; Wen Biesang did not hear him clearly.

"Nothing," Song Qianfan said. "Young lady, you do have some talent for the lute, it’s just that... it may not quite fit the score prepared by the Le You Workshop..."

"There is still half a month. I can practice with them."

"Besides the lute, have you tried any other instruments?"

"My mother excelled at the lute," Wen Biesang replied after a moment of thought. "I have not touched others."

Song Qianfan asked: "Is there any skill you were praised for by your mother... after you grew up?"

"My parents have both passed away."

As he spoke, his long lashes were dampened by a trace of moisture.

Song Qianfan jumped up from his chair: "Well, you—you sit for a moment. Let me go ask around, just sit for a while..."

"Your Highness, you heard it, didn't you?" In the attic by the window, Song Qianfan sat before Cheng Yun. "It's not that I don't want to help her; she really cannot handle the role of a musician."

Having drunk too much the night before, Cheng Yun felt a splitting headache. He kept rubbing his aching temples and said, "If you can't help her, the worst that happens is you fail to report back to your brother-in-law. Why are you making such a fuss to me?"

"I..." Song Qianfan keenly grasped the true meaning behind the term 'brother-in-law' and said seriously, "Actually, Brother Xie didn't specify in his letter. I just didn't expect a young lady to arrive, so I thought, perhaps it was meant to be... But I’m not sure. Your Highness, why don't you go over and talk to her yourself?"

Cheng Yun stopped his movements and looked at him with blurred eyes. There was a sense of weariness and haze in his intoxicated gaze, yet Song Qianfan still discerned something within them—dark, silent, like the rising waves of the deep sea at midnight.

"He..."

—"You are not worthy."

Cheng Yun turned his head, squinting slightly to avoid the warmth of the winter sun. "He is not yet worthy of me seeing him in person."

Song Qianfan asked: "According to Your Highness's wishes, should I send her away?"

Cheng Yun gestured toward the raised roller blind, and Song Qianfan stepped forward to lower it.

As the light filtered through the blind, casting stripes of shadow across his face, Cheng Yun asked: "Does he have any other skills?"

"I asked. He said no."

"Dancing, singing, swordsmanship, staff-work, acrobatics..."

Song Qianfan went into the hall, and Wen Biesang replied: "I cannot."

"What about posing as a servant?"

"Can an ordinary servant get close to Zhou Cangshu?"

"Hard to say. Those serving in the main hall will likely be long-time staff of the Zhou family. Posing as a laborer from the Drunken Immortal Pavilion only guarantees entry into the Prime Minister's residence."

"Can I really not be a musician?"

"..."

While Cheng Yun was deep in thought, Song Qianfan rubbed his legs, which had been running back and forth all day, his face full of distress: "Your Highness, are you really not considering a face-to-face conversation with him?"

"What is my status, and what is his? How could we meet?"

Song Qianfan sat on a stool to rest and poured himself a cup of tea: "How should I respond to that?"

"Half a month. If he is truly determined, perhaps he can learn."

"But I suspect he can't even tell one note from another."

"If it really doesn't work out, we can use disguise. Find him a silent lute; if he plays along with everyone else, no one will notice."

***

The Drunken Immortal Pavilion had its own unique way of keeping warm, but after a few trips, Song Qianfan was drenched in sweat.

Panting, he leaned against a table next to Wen Biesang.

Wen Biesang fanned him with his hand: "In this way, the ladies of the Le You Workshop will all know I am merely making up the numbers."

"That, indeed, cannot be hidden." Song Qianfan rested a hand on his waist, leaning his face closer to Wen Biesang’s hand. "But you have absolutely no skills, and you can't fake the others. Just arrange it this way for now. Try practicing these few days. If it's passable, hold a real lute; if it's truly hopeless, hold a silent one. You can tell outsiders you have affections for some young master in the Prime Minister's residence and are trying to climb the social ladder; that would be a plausible excuse."

"Mm." Wen Biesang continued to fan him. Song Qianfan ran out of things to say and gradually felt a bit embarrassed, taking the initiative to leave: "Then, do you have a music teacher? Would you like me to arrange one for you?"

"Yes."

"No need to fan me anymore, you must be exhausted. Let’s have a meal together later."

"No need. I want to seize the time and go back to practice."

Song Qianfan saw him downstairs. As they neared the moon gate, Wen Biesang whispered: "Please convey my thanks to that expert on my behalf."

Song Qianfan felt a pang of guilt, but Wen Biesang had already turned at the moon gate, his eyes clean and innocent: "Please keep my secret."

"I am entrusted by others, so I must be faithful to the task." Song Qianfan hurriedly cupped his hands: "Naturally."

Wen Biesang nodded and walked away, clutching his lute.

Behind him, the Crown Prince approached slowly. Song Qianfan withdrew his gaze, his tone hesitant: "Your Highness, this Miss Sang... she implies more than what she says."

"If you leak the secret, he will surely blow up your house along with you."

Song Qianfan: "..."

He followed the Prince to the carriage and asked: "May I ask, Your Highness, regarding the music teacher—should I arrange it, or..."

"Since he trusts you, you are responsible for everything."

Song Qianfan thought he hadn't understood: "I remember Your Highness is a master of both the lute and chess..."

"No time."

The carriage door closed. Song Qianfan looked confused: "Did I guess wrong?"

The carriage drove away. In the corner of the carriage shed behind them, Wen Biesang emerged with his lute, his brows cold and clear.

At the Crown Prince's mansion, Cheng Yun changed into clean clothes and stepped out from behind the screen where the bathtub was kept.

Pang Qi approached with a small white porcelain cup: "Your Highness, a hangover tonic."

Cheng Yun took it and drank it in one gulp.

"I am going to sleep for a while. No one is to disturb me."

"Understood."

Just as he lay down on the bed, Qi Song’s voice came from outside: "Your Highness..."

"His Highness is asleep."

"I have something urgent."

"No matter what it is, you are not to disturb him."

Qi Song cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted toward the inner hall: "It’s a box gifted by a Miss surnamed Sang!"

Cheng Yun opened his eyes immediately, clutching his splitting head as he sat up: "Where is it?"

They walked briskly through the corridor.

Qi Song said: "Just now, someone asked me to come out and meet them in person. As soon as I went out, they gave me a wooden box, saying it was a gift from Miss Sang."

A servant ran ahead and pushed open the door to the study.

Cheng Yun stood at the door, staring at the square black wooden box on the desk: "You just left it here?"

"I heard it was a valuable item."

"It is naturally a valuable item."

Thinking of Wen Biesang's attitude yesterday, Cheng Yun couldn't help but take two steps back: "Aside from this, was there anything else said?"

"There was a letter."

"Where is the letter?"

"On top of the box."

"..." Cheng Yun glared at him and tilted his head to listen intently.

The box was quiet; there was no sound at all.

At the time, Zhou Xuan said one could hear the mechanisms shifting. If it had already been triggered, with his keen hearing, he should have been able to hear it.

But back then, Wen Biesang did not have enough materials or energy. No one could guarantee if the mechanism, three years later, had been improved.

"Your Highness."

"Everyone, stay back!"

He flicked his sleeves, especially toward the servants who lacked martial arts skills: "No one is allowed near the study."

Qi Song seemed to realize something: "That's impossible, surely... he wouldn't attack his own home."

"When did he ever consider this place his home?"

"Then, then maybe this subordinate should..."

"It might explode the moment it's touched."

"This subordinate's life is not worth much!"

"Your life is naturally not worth much," Cheng Yun said, "but what about my study?"

"..."

"Go get the suit of armor my uncle gave me."

Soon, someone brought the armor. Cheng Yun ordered everyone to leave and walked around the study once more to ensure no one was nearby except Qi Song. Only then did he walk over to put on the armor: "Do not let a word of today's events leak out."

"Your Highness, let me do it."

"You don't have armor."

"This subordinate can..."

"Don't even think about it."

Qi Song was both moved and ashamed: "Your Highness is truly..."

"It’s a birthday gift from my uncle; do you think you deserve to wear it?"

"..."

Amidst the heavy clanking of iron armor, Cheng Yun arrived beside the square black box.

He channeled his internal energy to protect his body, reached out tentatively, pinched the letter on top with his armored fingers, and then turned without hesitation, striding out.

Qi Song breathed a sigh of relief and helped him take off the armor, hanging it back on the rack.

He pulled out the letter, unfolded it, and saw the square, upright handwriting.

—Once the Prime Minister's residence is finished, I will come to the manor to serve.

The huge weight in his heart suddenly lifted. Cheng Yun headed back toward the study.

Qi Song hurriedly said: "Your Highness..."

"It’s fine," Cheng Yun said. "He must have noticed something at the Drunken Immortal Pavilion today. Writing this letter to make a promise is likely because he is worried I will ruin his plans."

"It seems the young master doesn't know that the Prime Minister's residence and you are rivals. If Zhou Cangshu dies, it is a hundred percent beneficial to you and carries no harm."

Cheng Yun stopped stroking the black box, his eyes deep and dark: "He doesn't trust me."

"It’s all because of that Dream Demon incident back then..."

The Crown Prince cast a glance, and Qi Song immediately shut his mouth.

Cheng Yun picked up the black box and walked out of the study: "Find an empty space. I am going to dismantle it."

***

"Zheng!" "Zheng-zheng!" "Zheng-zheng-zheng-zheng-zheng-zheng-zheng-zheng—"

In the outskirts, by the side of a deserted forest.

Wen Biesang was wrapped in a heavy cloak, practicing the lute with great seriousness.

Not far away, Chen Changfeng sat in the carriage, tearing open the sleeve of his cotton-padded coat once again to fish out a wad of cotton.

He stuffed them into his ears.

At the same time, Cheng Yun was laying out the disassembled parts one by one on the floor of his study, with a small table set up nearby, along with writing materials and several completed blueprints.

After staying up for three days and two nights, Cheng Yun blew the ink dry and reassembled the black box.

Over there, with the help of the music teacher invited by Song Qianfan, Wen Biesang finally began to learn how to play decent notes.

He continued to practice diligently by the forest in the suburbs.

The blueprints were locked inside the wooden box, and the black box had been stripped of its gunpowder, leaving only the mechanism.