The White-clothed Beauty looked at His Highness, her eyes brimming with adoration.
The world said that King of Nanjiang was drunk on landscapes and pleasures, uncultured and incompetent, disgracing the dignity of a prince.
Only she knew just how Heaven-Reaching Wisdom this prince possessed.
His dissipation was an act.
His cynical indifference was an act.
His name was Cha, and he truly observed.
Even a naïve, innocent boudoir princess like the Eighth Princess, who truly knew nothing of how the world worked, was but a chess piece in his hand. He had taken the princess sightseeing without ever meeting the other party, yet through that very "absence," he had already obtained the information he wanted.
She could not help but marvel. A man with such Heaven-Reaching Wisdom ought to have risen above the rest in the power struggle for the throne, a battlefield without visible flames or smoke. Why had he instead ended up in such a predicament?
Which link had gone wrong?
Suddenly, a strand of flute music arose...
The flute sounded, like a bright moon hanging in the sky and a little river murmuring along. Merely its opening note was filled with boundless beauty.
The White-clothed Beauty's heart jolted, and she reached the window in a single step.
Staring in shock at the bamboo grove beneath the night sky, her lips parted soundlessly.
The tangled conflict in King of Nanjiang's eyes instantly vanished. He too stared out the window in astonishment. Three li away, music suddenly rose from that bamboo grove at midnight.
The moment the music began, it was a melody he had never heard before.
The tune shifted, and even he, a prince reputed to possess the greatest romantic sensibility, had never heard anything like it.
It was so incredible, so stirring to the heart.
What