The marriage fortune stick task went on all afternoon.
Shen Yuzhou ran through half the village and found only one in the end.
Ji Shiyu found one, and Jiang Wantang found one too.
Cheng Yanqiu had slightly better luck and found two. Lin Yanru also found two.
After getting two from the old man selling bamboo goods, Pei Yubai found no more marriage fortune sticks.
Once they counted them up, the final result was this: Ji Shiyu, Shen Yuzhou, and Jiang Wantang had one each. Cheng Yanqiu, Lin Yanru, and Pei Yubai had two each. No one won.
Meng Xu stood beneath the old locust tree, looking at the results the guests presented, and fell silent for two seconds.
"One is still missing."
Shen Yuzhou wiped away his sweat. He really had run all over the village. "Where else could it be?"
Meng Xu flipped through the notebook in his hand. "The production team hid ten sticks in Fated Marriage Village. Nine have been found. One is still missing."
He had seen that last one in Pei Yubai's livestream. The great beauty who had escorted the guests out of the woods yesterday had taken it.
Cheng Yanqiu frowned. "Where did you hide it? We've practically turned the whole village upside down."
Meng Xu did not answer. Instead, he glanced at the sky. The sun was already sinking in the west, its light turning golden and stretching the village's shadows long.
"How about this?" Meng Xu closed his notebook. "There are a little over two hours until dark. Whoever finds the last stick before nightfall, or gets it from the person holding it, wins."
"The winner gets to stay in the courtyard behind Yue Lao's temple tonight. A private courtyard, with hot water and a private bathroom."
Shen Yuzhou's eyes lit up. "A private courtyard?"
"A private courtyard." Meng Xu nodded. "Everyone else sleeps in shared quarters."
Shen Yuzhou immediately turned to Cheng Yanqiu. "Sis Yanqiu, let's look together!"
Cheng Yanqiu glanced at him. "Didn't you say we'd split things fifty-fifty?"
Shen Yuzhou chuckled. "That was splitting the sticks, not splitting the courtyard."
The bullet comments filled with laughter.
Pei Yubai stood at the back of the group without a word. He looked down at the two sticks in his hand, then glanced at the sky.
Meng Xu added, "The last stick isn't hidden in the village. Someone has it."
They all looked at him.
"Qiguan Yuan." Meng Xu's tone was perfectly ordinary as he said the name. "You should remember him. He should still be somewhere near Fated Marriage Village. Whoever finds him and gets that stick from him takes first place."
Shen Yuzhou opened his mouth. "That great beauty from yesterday?"
Meng Xu nodded.
Shen Yuzhou shrank back a little. He remembered Qiguan Yuan reclining on the couch in that wooden house yesterday, silver-haired and dressed in red, his gaze indifferent, looking at people as though they were something of no consequence.
That man was beautiful, certainly, but Shen Yuzhou did not quite dare approach him. He always felt there was a peculiar magnetic field around him that made people keep a respectful distance.
Cheng Yanqiu, on the other hand, showed little hesitation. "Then let's split up. The village isn't big. He shouldn't be hard to find."
They dispersed.
Pei Yubai did not go with anyone. He headed east along Fated Marriage Village's main street.
The villagers he passed gave him a few extra looks. An elderly woman sitting by her doorway sorting vegetables looked up, saw him, and said with a smile, "This young man looks like he stepped out of a painting."
Pei Yubai did not hear her. He was watching every turn in the lanes, every half-closed wooden door.
They searched for nearly two hours.
The sun turned from gold to orange-red and was about to set.
Shen Yuzhou ran through the lanes again and again until his legs went weak. Cheng Yanqiu leaned against a wall, catching her breath. Ji Shiyu crouched by the roadside, while Lin Yanru stood beneath the old locust tree at the village entrance, looking around. Jiang Wantang sat on the stone steps, head lowered as she rubbed her ankle.
In short, no one found Qiguan Yuan.
The bullet comments grew anxious too.
[Still haven't found him?]
[Where on earth is Qiguan Yuan?]
[Has he already left?]
[If he's gone, it's over. No private courtyard.]
Pei Yubai finished searching the last lane and found nothing. He stood at its entrance for a while, then turned back.
When he reached the little square in the village center, he caught a scent.
Wontons.
A small awning had been set up beside the square, with several wooden tables and benches beneath it.
An elderly woman was cooking wontons over a pot, clouds of white steam rising from it. Shen Yuzhou was already sitting at one of the tables, blowing on the bowl of wontons in front of him.
Cheng Yanqiu sat across from him, also holding a bowl.
Spotting Pei Yubai, Shen Yuzhou waved and called, "Brother Pei! Over here! Granny said she's treating us. They're free!"
Pei Yubai went over and sat on a bench. The elderly woman brought him a bowl of wontons, set it before him, and said with a beaming smile, "You youngsters have worked hard. Been running around all day, haven't you?"
Pei Yubai thanked her, lowered his head, and took a bite. The wontons were small, with thin wrappers and fresh, savory filling. The broth contained dried shrimp and laver, and was piping hot. One mouthful of broth washed away most of the fatigue from running around all day.
They ate with their heads down, none of them speaking. Beneath the awning, there was only the clink of bowls and chopsticks and the steam from the wonton broth.
Then they heard a sound.
The sound of a qin.
It did not come from far away. It was close by.
It was quiet but clear, every note clean and pure, like pearls falling onto a jade platter.
They could not put a name to the tune. Its melody was slow, like someone speaking unhurriedly, telling a very long story one sentence at a time.
Shen Yuzhou was biting into a wonton when his spoon stopped in midair.
Cheng Yanqiu raised her head and looked toward the sound.
Ji Shiyu set down the chopsticks.
Lin Yanru tilted her ear toward it.
Jiang Wantang's eyes lit up. She studied dance and was sensitive to music. The fingering, rhythm, and phrasing all indicated that the player was extraordinarily skilled. It was not the sort of mastery achieved through practice. It was talent.
Pei Yubai did not look up. He listened to the qin, the spoon in his hand never stopping.
But on closer inspection, he was scooping up his broth a little more slowly than before.
The viewers heard it too.
[What's that sound? It's so beautiful. Is someone playing a qin? Who is it?]
[It's a guqin! Someone's playing a guqin.]
[Someone in this village can play the guqin?]
[They're playing so well!]
Shen Yuzhou was the first to find where the sound came from.
Across from the awning stood a small two-story wooden building, its doors and windows carved with floral patterns.
An upstairs window was open, and someone sat beside it. A dark red robe and long silver hair glowed faintly gold in the sunset.
Qiguan Yuan.
He sat beside the window with a guqin set before him. His fingers moved over the strings, their motions small and even seemingly casual, yet every note rang clear.
His head was slightly lowered, his silver hair falling to conceal half his face. The sunset fell over him, bathing his entire figure in warm light.
Pei Yubai raised his head and looked over. His expression hardly changed, but his gaze lingered by the window.
The piece ended. The final note slowly dispersed in the air, like the last ripple on the surface of water.
Qiguan Yuan's fingers left the strings. The instrument still trembled faintly, giving off a very, very soft lingering resonance.
He raised his head and glanced toward the awning. His gaze swept across their faces before settling, as though he had seen the person he wanted to see.
Then he raised one hand.
His fingers were slender, his cool white skin almost translucent in the sunset. Between his index and middle fingers, he held a bamboo stick tied with a red cord.
The marriage fortune stick.
He waved it casually, as if to say: What you want is right here with me.
Then he withdrew his hand, tilted his head slightly, and gestured toward the room beyond the window.
He meant for them to come upstairs.
Shen Yuzhou was the first to stand, nearly knocking over his bowl of wontons.
Cheng Yanqiu steadied the bowl and glared at him, but rose to her feet herself.
The others quickly stood as well.
Pei Yubai was the last to rise. He drank the final mouthful of broth from his bowl, set it down, and followed them.
They went upstairs.
The wooden stairs creaked underfoot. The second floor was much quieter than the first. Bamboo mats covered the floor, several pieces of calligraphy and paintings hung on the walls, and a few pots of orchids stood in a corner.
The window was open, offering a view of all the rooftops of Fated Marriage Village and the mountains in the distance.
Qiguan Yuan sat at the table beside the window.
The guqin was still on the table, his fingers resting on its strings. He was not playing, merely plucking at them idly.
The strings gave off scattered single notes, like absentminded heartbeats.
Shen Yuzhou led the way and stood before Qiguan Yuan, at a loss for words for a moment. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Qiguan Yuan did not look at him. With his head lowered, he slowly slid his fingers along the strings, producing one long note.
Then he spoke.
"Xiao Su, bring tea."
His voice was quiet and light, as though he were speaking to himself.
But the moment he finished, a young man in plain cloth clothing came running up from the stairway, carrying a teapot and cups.
He deftly arranged the cups on the low table beside the main table, poured the tea, then bent down and took the guqin away.
Qiguan Yuan's fingers were left empty. He withdrew his hands and rested them on his knees. Only then did he raise his eyes to look at the people standing before him.
His gaze swept over each face, unhurried.
Then he asked, "Want this?"
He took the marriage fortune stick from his sleeve and set it on the table. The bamboo made only a soft sound against the wooden surface, but everyone heard it.
Shen Yuzhou nodded furiously.
Qiguan Yuan watched him nod twice, and the corner of his mouth moved. It was not quite a smile, just the slightest curve.
"You can have it." He pointed to the side.
A Go board sat on the other side of the table. Its fine grid lines had been carved into it, worn glossy by the years.
There were no stones on it. Two containers of black and white stones stood on either side.
Qiguan Yuan leaned back in his chair, his posture languid, silver hair spilling over his dark red clothes like a painting.
"Beat me at Go," he said. "Win, and the stick is yours. Lose, and come back tomorrow."