Chapter 108: Escape

Lu Ying slowly turned around.

Suddenly, her eyes met his. Ah Xu’s eyes brightened instantly. He stepped forward swiftly, placing his tall frame between Lu Ying and whatever lay behind her. In a low voice, he asked, “Why are you here?”

Lu Ying looked up and whispered, “Zhang Feng abducted me.”

The moment she spoke, Ah Xu’s expression changed drastically. Then Lu Ying continued, “It happened half an hour ago. I knocked out the maid and walked here.”

Her clear, contrasting eyes held a hint of plea as she looked at him. “Can you help me get out of here?”

After much hesitation, Lu Ying finally dared to ask for help.

Ah Xu was about to reply when Zhang Feng’s voice came from behind, sharp and growing nearer, “Ah Xu! What are you dawdling here for?”

Ah Xu’s face shifted slightly. He barked, “Head that way,” pointing to the trees on the right. Lu Ying responded with a soft acknowledgment and started walking.

But just as she took a step, Zhang Feng’s commanding shout rang out, “Stop!”

The shout was loud and fierce; everyone immediately quieted, turning to look in that direction.

Today was truly miscalculated!

Lu Ying gave a bitter smile. She stepped aside, and from her sleeve, she pulled out a thin strip of bamboo leaf, casually plucked earlier on the road.

Then, Lu Ying turned back slowly.

Facing the approaching Zhang Feng, furious and striding forward, and the tightly-lipped, somber Ah Xu, Lu Ying suddenly turned and gave a graceful nod to the crowd, her voice rising with a cold clarity, “Gentlemen of the Zhang family, you misunderstand. Since I have promised to perform for you all, how could I shrink back now?”

“What are you talking about?” Zhang Feng was baffled. His hand already reached toward her.

But Lu Ying only smiled faintly, as if unaware of his outstretched hand. She placed the bamboo leaf between her lips and began to play.

She was playing “Song of White Hair.”

The clear, slightly lingering sound of the bamboo leaf pierced through the surrounding noise, causing everyone to fall silent, even Zhang Feng stopped in his tracks.

This piece, a duet of qin and bamboo leaf, had made waves throughout Chengdu. No wealthy household could find anyone skilled enough to play the bamboo leaf. Now suddenly hearing Lu Ying play left everyone stunned.

As she played “Song of White Hair,” she passed Ah Xu and walked toward the pavilion.

The bamboo’s tone was crisp and lingering, slow yet carrying a chill and bitterness unlike any other instrument. That chill seemed steeped in the passage of time. Sometimes it was considered unrefined for high society, but Lu Ying's playing made it unique—imbued with that very bitterness, the audience could feel the desolation and self-mockery that Zhuo Wenjun must have felt when she first played this piece centuries ago.

It was an irreplaceable sound.

Lu Ying passed by Zhang Feng.

At that moment, Zhang Feng lowered his raised hand. His eyes gleamed with pride, the anger replaced by a triumphant smile. If his newly taken concubine could shine in such a setting, it was a matter to be proud of.

She walked gracefully, playing softly. Soon, she arrived at the pavilion.

Standing inside, she slowly removed the bamboo leaf, smiling gently as she looked down at the qin player. “Gentleman, why not play?”

The qin player glanced up at her, nodded, and placed his fingers on the strings. A flowing, melodious tune drifted through the air.

It was “Phoenix Seeking the Phoenix.”

Lu Ying moved to the side, leaning against the pavilion railing, her gaze slightly lowered. She recited casually, “In Linqiong, there was a daughter of the Zhuo family named Wenjun. Her eyebrows, when seen from afar, resembled mountains; her face was always like a lotus; her skin soft and smooth as cream; her talent and learning were unparalleled... In Chengdu, there was a young man named Sima Xiangru, orphaned and skilled in playing the qin. One day, he visited the county magistrate’s house, where he met Wenjun, newly widowed, beautiful beyond compare and supremely talented. He played ‘Phoenix Seeking the Phoenix’ to express his feelings.”

Her voice, like the bamboo’s earlier sound, was cold yet rising, plaintive and flowing like a spring breeze.

Gradually, more people in the garden gathered, quietly sitting down and listening attentively.

After the recitation came the music—qin and bamboo leaf intertwined—pure and sharp, almost aggressively clear; the elegance was tinged with a commonness that immersed listeners in a beautiful dream, yet forced them awake. Deep within their souls, they knew this beauty, this tenderness, was but a fleeting illusion.

The music continued to drift, the clear recitation went on, and unnoticed, the soft cries of young maidens began to rise.

Everyone was utterly captivated.

More and more people gathered in the garden.

This duet had circulated in Chengdu for a while now, each performance bringing novelty. People marveled that music could tell a story so vividly.

They also wondered what it was like to blend the bamboo leaf’s sound with the qin—the original sound that was said to be played only by rustic folk.

Now they understood.

The bamboo leaf’s humble tone, paired with the qin, could move people to tears.

Centuries ago, that audacious, unparalleled beauty who scorned the mundane world also felt such despair and sorrow...

Slowly, the piece ended.

In the ensuing silence, Lu Ying gracefully removed the bamboo leaf from her lips, smiled lightly at the still-stunned crowd, and said clearly, “After performing this piece with the gentlemen of the Wen family, Lady Shang, and Miss Xiao, I have remained indoors ever since. I was unaware that this music had already spread throughout Chengdu. I hope you all will forgive my momentary lapse.”

She spoke frankly, saying that her performance was simply a whim.

But no one cared much about that.

What caught everyone’s attention was that this piece, so famous across Chengdu, was played by this very young lady.

Unconsciously, their gazes toward Lu Ying shifted—not because of her skill, which was common enough to be admired in the entertainment quarters—but because of the subtle words accompanying the tune, the protective regard from the children of noble families toward the performer.

A buzz of whispers arose.

Amid the murmurs, Li Niang hurried over. Seeing Lu Ying, she was startled, then visibly relieved. Quietly, she approached Zhang Feng from behind, lowering her voice to apologize.

Whether it was apology or relief, Zhang Feng did not notice. His gaze remained fixed on Lu Ying.

Lu Ying now walked toward them, elegant and at ease, as if her status were noble, no less than those around her.

In moments, she reached a young girl from the Tao family. She nodded politely and smiled, “Sister, please forgive me. I lied earlier. Though I am close to Miss Xiao Yan, my surname is not Xiao—I am Lu. I hope you will excuse my deception.”

She turned around, nodding politely to the gathered young ladies. “I beg your pardon.”

The Tao girl was the first to respond, “I don’t blame you.”

Upon hearing this, the others followed suit with their greetings.

At this moment, none of the girls truly blamed Lu Ying. Though lying lightly was not commendable, those who heard her play felt an inexplicable closeness to her, as if she had voiced the very thoughts they had long held but could never express.

Yet, for Lu Ying, apologizing to the girls was not the real point.

Her true aim was to send a message to Zhang Feng a short distance away: “I am close with Miss Xiao Yan.” Not just Miss Xiao Yan, but also Lady Shang and others.

Lu Ying understood that those who had long struggled amidst power were sensitive to such words—a sensitivity that was better left unprovoked.

Having said her piece, she ignored Zhang Feng and turned, strolling out with grace.

In the blink of an eye, Lu Ying left the garden.

Seeing her depart, the crowd finally reacted. One steward hurried after her.

Zhang Feng and Ah Xu kept watching. They saw Lu Ying exchange polite words and smiles with the steward before turning away again. Li Niang caught up, whispered a few words, and then Lu Ying’s figure vanished once more.

Soon after, Li Niang returned, forcing a smile as she bowed to Zhang Feng. “Sir, Lady Lu says she has urgent matters at home and cannot stay.”

A ripple of sighs and questions spread in all directions.

Lu Ying had left the Zhang estate.

Moreover, she was escorted back courteously by the chief steward of the estate.

Shortly after, another steward and Li Niang arrived, unloading six large chests filled with jewelry and fine silks—valuable gifts.

These were betrothal gifts.

Gifts meant to make amends for having frightened Lu Ying.

To show that he no longer minded, Lu Ying returned the jade pendant Zhang Feng had left in her possession.

Lu Ying knew this was only the first wave. In a few days, once they fully uncovered her connections with Miss Shang, Miss Xiao Yan, and others, more gifts of apology would surely follow.

By evening, Lu Yun returned.

Hearing what had happened today, he broke out in a cold sweat.

Frowning with worry, he asked, “Sister, now that you’ve played, do you think they will look down on you?”

Usually, those who performed publicly were entertainers.

Of course, some noble daughters occasionally performed, but their status ensured no one looked down on them.

Hearing her brother’s question, Lu Ying was indifferent. “Once they know I’m close with Miss Shang and the others, they won’t look down on me.” She smiled, “Besides, I don’t really care what others think. Whether praised or slandered, it’s meaningless.”

In truth, the benefits far outweighed the drawbacks.

For the first time, Lu Yun heard his sister say so decisively that she didn’t want to marry. He was stunned, staring blankly at her before tears welled up.

Pressing his lips together, his voice hoarse, he said, “Sister… you… I…” He didn’t know what to say. He thought if not for the broken engagement with Zeng Lang, and if he hadn’t been so weak, his sister wouldn’t have suffered so much, almost been abducted, almost had her honor destroyed, and wouldn’t have come to such a decision.

Lu Ying glanced at her tear-streaked brother, suppressed a smile, and said nothing comforting.

(To be continued)