Chapter 20: Song of Everlasting Sorrow

The mist that had just brushed against the youth’s body trembled as soon as it met his gaze, a chill shooting up from her feet to her heart, making her shudder violently. The teacup in her hand slipped to the floor. Beigong Qiyi shoved her away, his tone icy and severe. “Did I give you permission to touch me?” Yunyan knelt on the ground, her face as pale as death. “I—I...” Beigong Qiyi leaned down, gripping her chin with force, his narrow, fox-like eyes half-lidded as he sneered, “Since you’re so eager, why don’t I let you play to your heart’s content?”

Yunyan stared at him in terror, her lips trembling, fat tears falling onto Beigong Qiyi’s hand. She appeared fragile and pitiable, but none of it stirred even a hint of compassion in him. At this, Yunluo had already stopped what she was doing. Glancing from her sister to Beigong Qiyi, she finally couldn’t help but speak. “Young Master, Yunyan is ignorant. Please forgive her.”

Beigong Qiyi released his grip on Yunyan’s chin and leaned back, looking at them with interest. After a moment, he raised an eyebrow, smiling. “If that’s the case, then perform for me.” Yunluo gasped, “Young Master...” Beigong Qiyi tapped his curled fingers lazily on his knee. “What? You’re unwilling?” Yunluo bit her lip, forcing a smile and shook her head. “I am willing.” Beigong Qiyi nodded. “Then begin.” In his previous life, he had always been capricious and cruel; now, he merely concealed his true nature in front of Beigong Juechen.

Yunluo instructed Yunyan to lie down, then knelt before her. She reached out and removed both their undergarments. The two of them were now completely bare. Yunyan grabbed her wrist, whispering, “Sister...” Yunluo shook her head, comforting her softly, “Don’t be afraid.” Yunyan looked at her for a long while before she closed her eyes and nodded.

“I can’t see,” Beigong Qiyi said, propping his head up with one hand, eyes half-closed. Yunluo delicately adjusted their position, turning slightly toward Beigong Qiyi, then slowly placed her hand on Yunyan’s full, rounded chest, kneading it gently. Yunyan kept her eyes shut, delicate moans escaping her lips.

Beigong Qiyi watched impassively, waving to Ximo, who stood nearby. “Ximo, pour me some wine.” Ximo complied, filling a cup for him. Beigong Qiyi swirled the translucent liquor in the white jade cup. The sight reminded him of that man’s ever-calm face—how beautiful would it be if that face could be stirred so? With this thought, he slowly drank the wine.

Meanwhile, Yunluo slid her hand between Yunyan’s thighs, into the warm, wet heat. Suddenly, a jade phallus, thick as a baby’s arm, was tossed before her. Yunluo instinctively looked up, only to see the youth with eyes half-closed, lost in thought, a rare tenderness softening his already exquisite features. She was momentarily dazed. When he opened his eyes, Yunluo quickly looked away, picked up the jade, and slowly pushed it inside. The phallus was long and thick, and Yunyan screamed in pain. Yunluo stroked her hand soothingly, and seeing the youth did not order her to stop, grit her teeth and pressed the entire length in.

Beigong Qiyi turned his gaze away without expression, drinking cup after cup of wine. The room was left with nothing but the soft, alluring moans and gasps of women. Only when he finished the pot did he say, with little interest, “That’s enough.” Yunluo finally let out a breath, withdrawing the jade from Yunyan’s body. Beigong Qiyi looked at her and smiled. “You haven’t finished your task.” Yunluo started, then realized, crawling forward to him.

His member was half-hard; Yunluo opened her mouth and took it in fully. Beigong Qiyi closed his eyes, imagining that man’s brows and eyes, his naked body, long and powerful legs. Heat surged through his body. He grabbed Yunluo by the hair, thrusting himself in with force, each stroke deep. When at last he released, spurting a hot flow, he let go. Yunluo swallowed, carefully cleaned him with her mouth and tongue, dressed him, then knelt quietly aside.

Beigong Qiyi’s slender fingers played along the jade-white cup, their pallor made even more luminous by the contrast. He looked down at Yunluo, as if recalling something, and asked in a low voice, “Is Nishang still in the pavilion?” Yunluo nodded. A faint, inscrutable smile curved Beigong Qiyi’s lips. “Then bring her here.” Yunluo replied, “Yes,” stood, and left.

Beigong Qiyi tossed the cup to Ximo, half-smiling. “Ximo, do you know when I first came here?” Ximo shook his head. Beigong Qiyi’s beautiful eyes narrowed. “When I was ten, my eldest brother brought me.” He beckoned to Yunyan, who was still kneeling. “Come here.” Yunyan trembled, but dared not refuse, and approached, trembling. Beigong Qiyi stretched out his arm and pulled her into his embrace, stroking her hair gently. “Don’t be afraid.” At his words, Yunyan’s heart unexpectedly calmed.

Soon, Yunluo returned, bringing Nishang with her. Beigong Qiyi glanced at her, then let his gaze fall again, watching the long hair cascading over her bare back. Nishang quickly knelt. “Nishang greets the Young Master.” She was now twenty-two; though past her prime, she possessed a mature charm. Only then did Beigong Qiyi look up, smiling. “Six years have passed, yet your face remains unchanged—only a few fine lines at the corners of your eyes.” As he spoke, he caressed Yunyan’s delicate cheek.

Nishang was now a veteran of the “Blossom Pavilion,” accustomed to all manner of talk. She smiled softly. “I am old now, naturally no match for Yunyan’s youth and beauty.” Beigong Qiyi withdrew his hand, releasing Yunyan, who sensibly climbed off him and, with Yunluo, saluted before quietly withdrawing.

Beigong Qiyi looked at her and asked softly, “Do you know the Song of Rainbow Garments?” Nishang nodded. He smiled. “But do you know its origin?” She thought, then shook her head. Beigong Qiyi lowered his eyes, his long lashes casting shadows beneath. “Bai Letian wrote in ‘Song of Everlasting Sorrow’—the drums of Yuyang thundered, shattering the Song of Rainbow Garments. The dance was created for Emperor Ming of Tang; when Yang Guifei first met him at Huaqing Pool, the Emperor played this piece to guide her.”

He straightened his robes and descended from the couch, standing before Nishang. He lifted her chin, laughing softly. “But sadly, Nishang, you are no Lady Yang, and he is no Emperor Ming.” Nishang’s body trembled. Beigong Qiyi’s fingers grazed her smooth skin. “Isn’t that so?” Nishang bit her lip, silent.

He released her and returned to his seat, accepting the handkerchief Ximo handed him, carefully wiping his fingers as if ridding them of something unclean.