Chapter 65

Chapter 65: Night Roaming with an Immortal

Downstairs, the main hall was elegant even by day. As the night deepened, the chatter softened into a hush.

Song Wei Chen stepped out.

It was strange—she stood there alone, quiet and composed, and yet the room seemed to tilt toward her without anyone meaning to. Heads turned. Eyes followed. Someone recognized her as the woman who had played the guqin before, and the delighted whispers spread before anyone could stop them.

She walked to the guqin table and sat. The steward had prepared a small incense burner; she lit the agarwood with practiced care. She had loved that scent since childhood. Whenever she could, she burned it before playing—letting the fragrance settle into her chest until the music she wanted rose clean and certain.

She closed her eyes.

The aroma drifted over her like an immortal’s sleeve in the wind. For a heartbeat, she almost saw an apsara in the air, playing a pipa behind her back, ankle bells chiming like crystal. Ribbons fluttered around her—graceful, breathtaking, and untouchable.

Song Wei Chen opened her eyes.

She knew what she would play.

An ancient piece—Roaming with Immortals—spilled from her fingertips.

Her thoughts ran wild and bright: Chang E of Guanghan dancing beyond sight, leaving only the stir of her wind; Erlang Divine Lord wielding his blade, heaven and earth resonating as mountains and rivers surged; Tai Bai Chang Geng, wine-flushed and laughing, drifting through the Milky Way with Master Cen, golden cup lifted to the moon to drown ten thousand years of sorrow.

The Shen Qi Mipu described the song like this: its spirit roamed beyond the vast heavens, free past the eight directions—riding a whistling chariot, soaring on a wind-and-cloud steed, touring the universe without a single chain.

When the final note faded, the hall was so silent it felt unreal.

Even the doorway had filled with listeners again, just as it had last time—packed shoulder to shoulder, breath held, no one daring to make a sound. As if the moment they spoke, they might shatter the illusion that Mistress of Guanghan Palace, Erlang Divine Lord, and Venus Tai Bai had truly brushed past their shoulders.

Only after the steward led Song Wei Chen back upstairs did the main hall finally exhale. Praise broke out in waves, followed by excited murmurs.

Zhuang Yu Heng stared at her as if his soul had been yanked loose and stitched back crooked. “Brother Yu Heng,” Song Wei Chen teased, “how was it?”

He pressed a hand dramatically to his chest. “I’m finished. You shattered my heart. Now I only want to marry you, hide you away, and listen to you play every day. Let the men of the world envy me to death.”

Song Wei Chen laughed, entirely unbothered. She knew he was joking.

Mo Ting Feng shot him a murderous look. “Drink. Keep your mouth busy.”

Shu Xue Long slid a bowl toward Song Wei Chen—the sweet osmanthus and red-bean glutinous rice balls kept warm over low charcoal. “Try it. See if you like it.”

She rarely had an appetite, but she took a polite spoonful.

It was unexpectedly good.

Song Wei Chen copied Zhuang Yu Heng’s dramatic expression and looked at Shu Xue Long. “Oh no. There’s a saying where I’m from: if you want to catch someone’s heart, you have to catch their stomach first. Boss Shu, you’ve caught my stomach.”

It was clearly a joke, but Mo Ting Feng’s face cooled anyway. “My person likes to joke. Boss Shu, don’t take it seriously.”

“I’m slow by nature,” Shu Xue Long replied, half sincere and half not. “I do tend to take words seriously.”

Mo Ting Feng’s gaze sharpened.

Song Wei Chen, as usual, noticed nothing at all.

Ruan Manor.

After dinner, Ruan Mian Mian wandered the back garden with a pouch of fish feed, tossing pellets into the pond and watching ripples spread like sighs.

Magpie followed at her side. “Master, I heard the Dust Warden just closed a major case. The Dust Warden Official should be free in the next day or two. If you want to visit, this servant girl can prepare something nice to bring.”

Ruan Mian Mian flicked more feed into the water, bored. “Something nice? You went to the black market again, didn’t you?”

“This time it’s new.” Magpie suppressed a giggle and leaned in, glancing around first. “Three potions: Truth-Telling Water, Contrary-Speech Water, and Rebellion-Bone Water.”

When Magpie whispered their uses, Ruan Mian Mian’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Keep them. They might be useful later.”

She tossed another pellet. “As for Ah Chen… I don’t even know where he’s gone. That mouth of his is sweet as honey—truth and lies all mixed together. Save the Truth-Telling Water for him.”

The new White Robe Venerable had drawn attention even from the Realm Lord’s Eldest Princess, Qin Xue Ying. A few days earlier, the two women had met to play music together. When the princess learned Ruan Mian Mian had met White Robe, she had asked about him—casual, but too focused to be harmless.

Ruan Mian Mian had taken note immediately.

Ah Chen was skilled at making girls laugh. She couldn’t let the Eldest Princess set her sights on him. So she complained lightly, as if without intent—saying the new White Robe Venerable relied on his identity as a soul-speaker and was always vanishing, secretive, impossible to pin down. A man like that, she implied, might not be someone a woman could trust her life to.

Remembering Qin Xue Ying’s pensive look, Ruan Mian Mian’s lips curved. She had no desire to lose a promising choice for nothing.

Just then, a servant approached and bowed, leading in an attendant from Minister of Works Manor with an invitation. Zhuang Yu Heng was hosting a wine banquet tomorrow night and invited her to attend.

Magpie’s voice turned light, careful to sound casual. “Will the Dust Warden Official be there?”

The attendant confirmed.

Ruan Mian Mian’s mood lifted at once. She tossed the rest of the fish feed into the pond in one sweeping motion and returned to her room with swaying, satisfied grace.

Later that night, after the wine loosened tongues and the gathering ended, Shu Xue Long walked the three of them to Moonwatch Tower’s entrance.

“Tomorrow night I’m hosting a banquet at my manor,” Zhuang Yu Heng said warmly. “Boss Shu, if you’re free, come too. We’re all friends—the more people, the livelier.”

Mo Ting Feng’s suspicion was obvious. Zhuang Yu Heng’s invitation sounded like kindness, but it was also a probe.

“Minister of Works honors me.” Shu Xue Long bowed. “I still have a few bottles of No-Thought Water at my home in the Deep Dreamlands. I’ll bring them, and we can enjoy them together.”

Then he turned to Song Wei Chen. “Will Miss Sang Pu be attending? If so, I’ll prepare more sweets.”

“Of course she’ll come,” Zhuang Yu Heng said before she could answer, smiling. “Boss Shu, you’re thoughtful.”

He clapped Mo Ting Feng on the shoulder on the way out. “Face reality, brother. See you tomorrow.”

After they parted, Mo Ting Feng deliberately took Song Wei Chen’s hand and walked slowly back to Wind-Listening Manor. Even though it was late, there were still people moving about inside Dust Warden Manor. When they saw the two of them, their bowed greetings came with barely hidden shock.

Mo Ting Feng didn’t care.

Song Wei Chen flushed hot—embarrassed, furious, trapped.

“Let go of me!”

Mo Ting Feng’s grip didn’t loosen. “And if I don’t?”