Chapter 31
Chapter 31: Jealousy — Mian Mian (Part 2)
Magpie’s sharp laughter sliced through the air. “You? Don’t make me die laughing. You think the qin is something anyone with hands can play?”
“My miss’s qin skills are famous everywhere,” she went on, voice dripping poison. “You think just anyone can step onto Moonwatch Tower’s stage and perform? Take a piss and look at yourself first!”
“Tsk.” Song Wei Chen glanced at Mian Mian. “Control your dog. The barking’s getting annoying.”
Then she turned back to Shu Xue Long, expression sobering just a little. “Do you trust me?”
If he trusted her, she’d win this back for him—cleanly and loudly.
Shu Xue Long’s smile didn’t waver. “I’ll take you there.”
As if he’d expected nothing less.
He turned to the old steward, tone smooth and perfectly polite. “Old steward, serve Miss Mian Mian well and have her stay for dinner. You were anxious and lost your sense. Miss Mian Mian’s hand is injured—how could you ask her to force herself to play?”
He lifted a hand, as if remembering something important. “Bring Moonwatch Tower’s signature dish—angelica-ginseng pork trotter soup—to nourish Miss.”
The words were flawless… and yet the old steward found himself suddenly cold inside. Was Boss Shu… implying Miss Mian Mian’s hand was a pig’s trotter?
Startled by his own thought, he hurried to guide Mian Mian to a private table on the first floor and rushed off to arrange the dishes.
Mian Mian’s attempt to put on airs had failed. Shu Xue Long had chosen Song Wei Chen to take the stage instead. Under her veil, Mian Mian’s glare cut sideways at Magpie. “This is your fault. You stirred the fire.”
“Noble Consort, don’t worry,” Magpie whispered close to her ear. “That dead girl can’t possibly compare. Even if she learned a little, she’ll be bottom-tier at best. Just wait for her to embarrass herself. Then Young Master Shu will have to come coax you.”
Her voice turned soft as honey. “And our mistress can use this chance to draw closer to him. In time, riches and glory will be yours for the taking.”
The words hit exactly where they should. Mian Mian’s shoulders eased; her expression smoothed into gentle calm, as if none of it had ever happened.
The signature dishes arrived one after another. When Mian Mian lifted her veil to sip her soup, the face beneath was finally revealed.
She was the same young lady who had served ink and brush beside Mo Ting Feng in the Dust Warden hall that day—Lord Si Kong Zhuang Yu Heng’s cousin, Ruan Xing Xuan.
Mo Ting Feng returned to the gate of his residence and immediately saw Jing Zhe, the shadow guard he’d assigned to her, pacing in frantic circles.
“What are you doing here?”
“Lord,” Jing Zhe blurted, face pale, “the Venerable went into your courtyard at noon and still hasn’t come out. But I’m certain the courtyard is empty. I lost track of the Venerable—please punish me!”
Mo Ting Feng’s expression tightened. In his heart, he’d already guessed most of it. “Go. Wait at Venerable Manor.”
He strode inside, cast a spell, and caught a familiar resonance in Sunless Residence—White Robe aura.
He yanked open the wardrobe and found the White Robe pressed beneath dresses.
“That damn girl,” he muttered, anger flashing—and then worry surged right after. “I specifically told her not to run around.”
He forced himself to breathe, to think.
“She won’t run. She won’t flee.” His gaze swept the wardrobe. “But the moon-white gauze dress is missing. She disguised herself and slipped out to play.”
With her pace, she couldn’t have gone far.
A heartbeat later, his figure vanished toward Water Street.
Water Street was already glowing with lantern light. Stalls lined the road; crowds flowed like a river.
Outside one bustling tavern, people were packed so tightly they clogged the street. And yet it was eerily quiet—no shouting, no laughter, not even the usual drunken rowdiness.
Mo Ting Feng skimmed along the rooftops, searching, when a guqin’s voice rose—clear, cutting, and strange enough to snare the heart. His focus snapped toward it.
The sound came from Moonwatch Tower.
He dropped from the roof in a swift arc. At the sight of a Dust Warden official, the crowd instantly parted, retreating to either side to make him a path. He followed the music inside.
Mo Ting Feng never would have imagined that, after thousands of years, he would see a scene like this again.
Song Wei Chen sat centered on the stage in Moonwatch Tower’s main hall. Incense drifted in pale ribbons as she played Guang Ling San. Before stepping onstage, she’d remembered herself in a dream—wearing the same moon-white gauze dress, seated in the waterside pavilion at Annex Villa, fingers moving over the strings as if the world were nothing but sound.
So she rebuilt it here.
Her fingertips pressed as though carving into wood, her plucks snapping like a blade striking stone. The notes rang clear as metal and ice—sound severed, meaning unbroken.
Moon sleeves, green strings, the tower bright in misted light;
Light plucks, slow strums—her gaze lowered, lashes shadowed.
Where the strings drew tight, where sound caught at the throat,
A thousand turns of feeling folded into silence.
In Mo Ting Feng’s eyes, the woman onstage overlapped with the woman in his memory until there was no seam between them. Moon-white gauze. A jade hairpin. Hair spilling like a dark waterfall. Hands that commanded the qin like a weapon.
His mind shattered into noise.
He fumbled for the medicine Zhuang Yu Heng had given him and swallowed a pill, throat tightening as it went down.
For a moment, he couldn’t tell if he stood in a dream or in reality—if this was the past or the present—and whether the woman before him was Sang Pu… or Song Wei Chen.
The final note fell.
The piece ended.
Song Wei Chen rose and bowed. The tavern held its breath for a beat—and then erupted.
Cheers, applause, voices calling out praise from every corner. Song Wei Chen looked slightly embarrassed, but her eyes were bright. She’d only meant to save Shu Xue Long’s evening. She hadn’t expected this.
The old steward, who had seen more than most in his lifetime, looked like he might cry. He kept rubbing his hands and turning to Shu Xue Long, wanting to speak, unable to, only nodding again and again in trembling delight.
Shu Xue Long’s eyes, soft as autumn water, held nothing but the woman on the stage.
Everyone praised.
Only in a private seat, a pair of eyes burned red with jealousy.
Mian Mian gripped her veil until her knuckles whitened. If Shu Xue Long didn’t come coax her, fine—but this? This rude girl outshining her, outplaying her, making the entire room roar?
It was absurd.
“You should’ve cut off her hands long ago,” Mian Mian said coldly to Magpie. “Now I only want to cut out your tongue.”
Magpie broke into a cold sweat. She’d never imagined the wild girl would not only avoid humiliation, but shine so brightly she crushed her mistress’s face into the floor. All she could do was whisper desperate apologies.
Song Wei Chen stepped down from the side stairs. Shu Xue Long moved forward and offered his hand. The steps were narrow and steep; she hesitated—then lightly placed her fingers in his.
In the private seat, the jealous eyes flared into raw fury, like fire ready to burn the whole place down.
“Come with me,” Mian Mian ground out at Magpie. Then she smoothed her expression, draped herself in fragile innocence, and stepped out.
At the doorway, Mo Ting Feng saw the way their hands touched.
A nameless heat flared in his chest.
He strode toward them.
“Boss Shu,” Song Wei Chen asked, trying to sound casual, “I didn’t embarrass your Moonwatch Tower, did I?”
“Your music and your bearing are unmatched,” Shu Xue Long said, smiling. “The sound could linger in the rafters for days. I’m honored to have heard it.”
Then, without the slightest hesitation: “Miss, would you be willing to become Moonwatch Tower’s golden signboard? Pay, schedule—everything is up to you.”
Song Wei Chen’s heart skipped. Qin to play, money to earn… why not?
“Well…” She glanced away, then back. “Sure. But I can’t promise when I’ll be able to come.”
“If you’re the signboard,” Shu Xue Long said softly, “then you appear when fate allows, and play when your heart wants.”
Song Wei Chen found herself smiling. He was nothing like that awful big boss—warm as spring sunlight. Unlike that thousand-year Ice Block…
Oh, hell.
“I have to go.” Her face changed, urgency snapping into her eyes. “I’ll come again another day!”
Like Cinderella hearing midnight creep closer, she finally remembered her “identity.” She spun to leave—
And nearly walked straight into Mian Mian, who had arrived supported by Magpie.
“With such remarkable skill,” Mian Mian asked sweetly, “Miss, who was your teacher?”
The smile didn’t reach her eyes. Find her background, find her weakness—then crush her.
“Self-taught,” Song Wei Chen said briskly, already angling to slip past.
Magpie blocked her. “In such a rush to be reincarnated? My lady is honoring you by questioning you!”
“Magpie,” Mian Mian scolded, gentle as ever, “don’t be rude.”
Then she turned back to Song Wei Chen. “My surname is Ruan, and my given name is Mian Mian. May I ask Miss’s name, and where you live? If fate allows, we could exchange pointers on qin art someday.”
Ruan Mian Mian.
Even her name was perfectly on brand—soft, sweet, fake as silk over steel. Song Wei Chen cleared her throat.
“I…” She couldn’t exactly say she was Song Wei Chen and lived in the Dust Warden manor. That would blow everything wide open.
“Let it be a cliffhanger,” she said with a grin. “If we meet again, I’ll tell you!”
She turned to bolt—and someone seized her wrist.
“You’re already my golden signboard,” Shu Xue Long said, amusement in his eyes. “I can’t keep calling you ‘Miss’ forever, can I?”
Song Wei Chen’s mouth opened—no sound came out.
“I—I’m…”
“She is Sang Pu,” a cold voice said from behind. “The qin player in my manor.”
A hand appeared, firm and unyielding, wrenching her wrist out of Shu Xue Long’s grasp and pulling her behind him.
Mo Ting Feng stood there like winter given shape, eyes locked on Song Wei Chen as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.