Chapter 8: Longing in Vain

Spring was in full bloom; willows drifted like smoke, sunlight shone golden and bright, and blossoms flourished everywhere, painting the world in deep reds and pale greens. Beside a shallow lake, the trees and willows leaned gently over the water, their reflections shimmering in ripples. The emerald lotus leaves stretched across the surface like jade, and pale pink lotus buds had just begun to bloom, dotting the expanse with their delicate beauty.

Fingers as flawless as jade rested upon a marble balustrade—one could not tell whether the railing was whiter or Beigong Juechen’s hands. It was noon, and the pavilion lessened the heat, a cool breeze bringing hints of chill. Beigong Juechen turned to pick up the half-finished wine on the stone table, reclined on a rattan couch, and watched the youth outside standing in a horse stance under the blazing sun. A faint smile played on his lips; he poured himself another cup and tossed both the wine jug and cup onto the table, landing them precisely at its center. Rising, Beigong Juechen walked out.

“How are you feeling?” Beigong Juechen asked, eyeing the boy’s sun-flushed face. Beigong Qiyi gritted his teeth, sweat beading on his forehead and blurring his vision. He looked toward Beigong Juechen, the man’s handsome face obscured by the light, unable to see clearly, and shook his head, enduring the discomfort.

Beigong Juechen raised an eyebrow and patted the sweat-soaked shoulder, half-smiling. “That’s enough. Get cleaned up—we’re going out.” With that, he took the lead. Beigong Qiyi watched his retreating figure, then stood upright only after half a stick of incense had burned.

Returning to “Idle Serenity Pavilion,” Beigong Qiyi stripped off his sweat-soaked clothes and tossed them aside, then walked naked into the bathhouse at the back, swiftly cleaning himself. He emerged wrapped in a white towel, which he handed to the waiting maids, instructing them to wash and dry it before returning it to the rack. Only then did he calmly dress in a pale yellow silk robe adorned with gold and silver cloud patterns, slip on silver-threaded boots with emerald dragon designs, and tie his glossy black hair high at the back with a golden ribbon instead of a formal crown.

When Beigong Qiyi entered the “Wandering Song Pavilion,” Beigong Juechen was already impatiently waiting. He glanced at the boy as he approached, then strode out. Beigong Qiyi followed closely and saw two men in black, each holding a horse outside the door.

Beigong Qiyi’s eyes lit up at the sight of the horses. One was wholly snow-white, flawless save for a mark inside its left ear resembling a magnolia blossom. The other was jet-black, its coat shimmering faintly under the sun—a pair of legendary steeds from the era of the Three Kingdoms, “White Dragon” and “Shadowless.”

Beigong Juechen took the black horse from a guard, patted its back, and vaulted onto its saddle. “Mount up. I’m taking you out today,” he told Beigong Qiyi. The boy climbed onto the white horse; though he had never ridden before, he was not afraid, merely holding the reins and asking, “Where are we going?” Beigong Juechen smiled, a hint of mischief in his expression. “We’re going to seek some amusement.”

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“The moon pauses beneath the clouds over Pine Hall, casting all the amber-melted incense in light.
It sighs in silence, longing deep—yet finds no way,
Only then does one know the night breeds sorrow,
Wild blossoms locked in jeweled caskets of years gone by,
Though southern woods shade the lingering cool,
Dreams are elusive, feelings incomplete...

Peach blossoms in the cup stir wildness anew,
Red sleeves stained with blood, gatherings and partings ever uncertain,
Fair hands transcribe tears—departed swords now paired,
A scroll of floating life cannot fathom,
Its purity unmarred, unashamed by fragrant courts...”

Behind a butterfly screen of blue gauze and mist, a graceful figure was faintly veiled. The young maiden wore a peach-colored gown threaded with gold, butterflies dancing across clouds in the fabric. Her long hair was intricately styled into a returning heart bun, with two dark gold carved hairpins set askew. Her beauty was delicate, her voice clear and elegant, mingling with the flowing zither music, drifting throughout the “Flower-Leaning Pavilion.”

Within, atop a carved ebony table adorned with floral motifs, lay dried fruits and snacks, a freshly brewed pot of tea steaming gently. A man in a dark robe with cloud and wild goose patterns sat upright, his black hair tied simply and pinned with a pure green jade hairpin. His skin was flawless like the finest marble, free from blemish, eyes closed, the corners slightly upturned, his slender fingers tapping the table in rhythm to the music.

Just then, another youth entered from outside, clad in pale yellow, strikingly handsome, with a crimson vermilion mark on his forehead adding to his allure. At the sound of his steps, the man slowly opened his deep green eyes. “You certainly keep busy,” he remarked. Beigong Qiyi glanced at the softly singing maiden and smiled, “I didn’t expect you would bring me to such a place, brother.” Beigong Juechen snorted, “It’s about time you understood these matters.” Beigong Qiyi gently twisted a strand of hair by his forehead and fell silent.

The pavilion quieted once more, only the maiden’s clear voice lingering.

“The phoenix candle flickers in the gilded spring chamber,
Lifting the wedding veil to steal a glance at the beautiful lord,
Brave and bold, unwilling to lose to others—
Let’s drink jade wine, flushed beneath red silk curtains,
Smoke and dust, the flames of war, how fierce the end times,
Blades and blood, the final act—
Even death repays love’s mistakes in life,
Hair bound, yet parted like stars and dawn...”

The man leaned back against the cushions, closing his green eyes again. Beigong Qiyi lifted the purple clay teapot from the table, his pale fingers contrasting sharply against its dark handle, making his skin seem nearly translucent. He inhaled the fragrance of tea, but his gaze slowly settled on the man beside him.

“Why do you keep staring at me?” the man asked, eyes closed and voice heavy. Beigong Qiyi did not avert his gaze, instead scrutinizing him closely before turning to the maiden. He did not answer, but closed his own black eyes, seemingly lost in her song.

“Yesterday, like sand, has sunk and gone; today, I am but an idle chronicler reveling in joy.
How many hearts have been trampled by the word ‘fate’?
Butterflies love flowers, tears freeze into white jade frost.

Red sleeves stained with blood, gatherings and partings ever uncertain,
Fair hands transcribe tears—departed swords now paired.
A scroll of floating life cannot fathom,
Its purity unmarred, unashamed by fragrant courts...”

As her voice faded and quieted, the maiden rose from behind her zither, bowed gracefully before Beigong Juechen and Beigong Qiyi, her wide peach-colored sleeves falling like scattered blossoms. “Nishang greets the Master and Young Master.”

Beigong Juechen opened his eyes and spoke softly, “Come here.” Nishang obeyed, approaching his side, and was about to kneel when he waved her off. “Go to the Young Master.” Nishang paused, then quickly answered, “Yes.” Beigong Qiyi glanced at the kneeling maiden, smiled lightly, “Then I must not refuse your courtesy.”

Beigong Juechen poured a cup of wine, lowering his brows. “If you like her, I’ll grant her to you.” Beigong Qiyi shook his head, “I am only ten. Sister Nishang seems fifteen or sixteen, her beauty at its peak. But by the time I am grown, able to enjoy such pleasures, she may not be at her best.” His words made Nishang’s face change abruptly, her soft smile freezing.

Beigong Qiyi’s words were precise. She lived by her looks, and most feared time’s cruelty. She recalled a line from her reading: ‘Those who serve by beauty lose favor as it fades; when favor fades, affection ends.’

Beigong Juechen drank, his green eyes flicking toward Beigong Qiyi with a sneer, “You are clever. Never mind, since Nishang is still at her prime and you cannot enjoy her, I’ll take her myself.” With that, he strode into the inner chamber, and Nishang bowed to Beigong Qiyi before following him.

Only Beigong Qiyi remained in the outer hall. He slowly finished his tea, then moved to where Beigong Juechen had sat, poured a cup of wine into the same vessel.

Low, muffled breaths and moans came from the inner chamber. Beigong Qiyi’s long, curled lashes trembled as he raised the cup to his lips.

The sounds from within grew louder; his crimson lips gently enclosed the rim.

A man’s barely audible gasp reached his ears, causing his hand to tremble, drops of wine staining his lips. The youth closed his eyes, slowly letting the wine flow into his mouth.

Outside the pavilion, a woman’s mournful song could be heard: “To seek and not find, to let go and cannot, to gain and not cherish...” Beigong Qiyi’s hand suddenly clenched tight.