Inside the guest room.
The lamplight was dim. A brazier of agarwood incense burned quietly, wisps of blue smoke curling upward and filling the room with a delicate fragrance.
Lu Changfeng lay casually on the cushioned couch, one hand tucked behind his head, his eyes half closed, as though resting or pondering something.
His robes hung loose, his long hair fell over his shoulders, and an air of languid, unhurried ease suffused him.
Lu Yuening sat before the zither table, her fingers resting on the strings. She drew a deep breath and plucked them gently.
The music rang clear as a spring flowing over stones, neither hurried nor slow, like a mountain stream winding beneath the moonlight, its waters murmuring and shimmering. Now and then, a breeze swept past, stirring ripples that soon settled into stillness again.
Her fingering was exquisite, every shift in force and tempo perfectly judged. Each note seemed to flow naturally from her fingertips, without the slightest trace of affectation.
Lu Changfeng kept his eyes closed, tapping his fingers lightly against his knee in time with the music.
When the piece ended, its lingering notes curled through the room for a moment before slowly fading.
Lu Yuening raised her head and found Lu Changfeng looking at her with his eyes open. Her face flushed faintly. She was truly shy; a single meeting of their eyes stained her cheeks with rouge, and even the tips of her ears reddened.
"Please forgive my humble performance." She lowered her eyes, her voice so soft it seemed she feared disturbing something.
Lu Changfeng shook his head, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. "You played beautifully. I've only ever heard one other person with such mastery of the zither."
Lu Yuening looked up, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "That person