(Extra) Yun Chu (3)

The autumn banquets at Leaning Red Pavilion were always especially lively. Candlelight reflected the smiles of a full house of guests; the clatter of dice, cries of encouragement to drink, and music of strings and bamboo wove together into a cacophony.

Yun Chu sat behind the curtain with a pipa in her arms. The hairpin tassels by her temples swayed gently with the movements of her fingers over the strings. A veil covered half her face, leaving only her lowered eyes exposed—Madam Zhang's idea. "Half-hidden, half-revealed is what ensnares men," she had said. Yet it also conveniently shielded Yun Chu from all those gazes that clung to her face.

Until the man in black entered.

He wore an ink-dark brocade robe, a jade belt at his waist, his entire bearing cold and sharp, utterly out of place amid the wine fumes and powdery scents of the pavilion. The steward hurried forward to greet him, but he merely raised a hand and pointed toward the curtain. "Please have Miss Chuying play Autumn River Night Mooring."

Yun Chu's fingers paused, then she obediently tuned the strings.

When the music began, she habitually lowered her eyes, her gaze falling upon the aged body of the pipa—this was the one Wan Xiang had left her. A blurred character for "Wan" was still carved into its tail, her sole remaining memento.

Yet this time was different. She could feel a gaze resting upon her. Unlike the greed and curiosity of the other guests, it was exceptionally focused, as though it carried the power to pierce through her veil, through the hands playing the pipa, and land directly in her heart.

Unable to help herself, she secretly raised her eyes—and met the man's deep gaze.

His eyes were black beyond black, his pupils seeming steeped in