AEOGA CH69

There is no feast under heaven that does not come to an end. After a lively birthday banquet filled with toasts, three rounds of wine, music, and dance, the jade plates were empty. Hosts and guests alike had enjoyed themselves to the fullest and departed in high spirits.

When they had arrived, no snow was falling, but by the time they left, the night was already deep. Golden-red imperial lanterns burned brightly under the eaves and along the corridors, catching the falling snowflakes as they dropped silently to the ground.

The moment Hua Yan stepped out of the palace gates, a violent shiver ran through him.

Seeing this, Fu Xinian immediately draped his own cloak over him and asked Hua Yan’s servant, “Where is his hand warmer?”

“Ah? Oh!” The servant finally snapped out of it. It had been as warm as spring inside His Highness’s palace, making them temporarily forget the harsh winter outside.

The servant hurriedly fetched the hand warmer. Clasping it tightly in his hands, Hua Yan finally felt warmth return to his body. “After staying in His Highness’s palace for so long, stepping outside really feels like falling into an ice pit.”

Fu Xinian said, “You’ll be warm once we get back to your palace.”

Noticing that Fu Xinian was dressed rather thinly, Hua Yan glanced at his servant, who was still holding another cloak, and then looked down at his own. The one he was wearing wasn’t his own at all—Fu Xinian had draped his own cloak over him.

He hurriedly went to unfasten it. “Why did you give me yours? Aren’t you cold?”

Fu Xinian held his hands down. “Stop fussing. Unfastening it now will just make you suffer the cold again. Why don’t I just wear yours?”

Thinking it made sense, Hua Yan agreed. “Then you wear mine.”

Fu Xinian put on Hua Yan’s cloak, catching the subtle, unique fragrance clinging to the fabric, and a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

On the other side, Liu Yansheng directly grabbed Shen Hezhou’s icy-cold hand and pulled him into the same carriage.

Shen Hezhou brought up an old grievance: “Saying the chessboard was gathering dust—were you dropping hints that I’m a terrible chess player?”

Liu Yansheng loved chess, but Shen Hezhou was far from skilled. Whenever they played, Shen Hezhou would lose nine times out of ten; the remaining one time was only because Liu Yansheng let him win out of pity for his miserable losing streak. Because the outcome was never in doubt, they eventually stopped playing altogether.

Amused, Liu Yansheng said, “How could I be picking on you? I was just saying auspicious words to present a gift to His Highness. Why are you keeping score over that?”

Shen Hezhou smiled faintly. “Then I suppose I’m just being petty.”

Liu Yansheng lightly hooked his fingers around Shen Hezhou’s. “Lord Shen, a great man is magnanimous—forgive me this once, won’t you? How about I teach you chess hand-in-hand tonight?”

The palanquin bearers below kept their eyes on their feet and their ears shut, strictly abiding by proper etiquette.

Carrying a lantern, Wang Yiming passed by the plum garden. Seeing the branches laden with red plum blossoms, he excitedly pulled Lin Chanzhi to look. “Little Lin, look! The plum blossoms are blooming so beautifully. Should we go take a closer look?”

He had a little calculation running in his head: could this count as his and Little Lin’s first private date?

He had heard from Hua Yan that a proper date required flowers and moonlight—the more poetic and romantic, the better. Usually, he and Little Lin were either busy with the restaurant business or tending to the crops in the fields, lacking even a shred of romance.

Wasn’t the atmosphere right now absolute perfection? Admiring flowers and snow in the dead of night—even a mundane fellow like him could have such a poetic moment.

Wang Yiming grew excited, but considering the freezing weather, he shook his head and relented. “Forget it, it’s too cold. Looking from afar is enough, so you don’t catch a chill.”

Lin Chanzhi lowered his head and said, “Let’s go.”

Wang Yiming was stunned. “…Ah?”

“I’m thick-skinned and tough; I won’t freeze that easily,” Lin Chanzhi murmured softy. “I think the plum blossoms… are very beautiful, too.”

While those pairs walked side-by-side, Helian Xi and Qin Yulong remained in absolute deadlock, refusing to interact with each other.

The moment the banquet ended, Helian Xi had departed, slipping away without a trace in the blink of an eye. Qin Yulong wanted to follow him but didn’t dare, quickly losing track of his shadow.

Tonight, he was destined for a sleepless night.

Inside Chongxue Palace.

Lu Xuechao looked at Xie Chongjin. “They have all left. Are you still not going back?”

Xie Chongjin froze, an aggrieved expression instantly surfacing on his face. “I have been living here all along. Why is Qingshu suddenly driving me away? Are you dissatisfied with today’s birthday gift?”

The gift had been meticulously selected and deeply pondered by Xie Chongjin. Given Lu Xuechao’s status, what priceless treasure had he not seen? Gifting a qin might lack novelty, but it was filled with profound affection.

Lu Xuechao said calmly, “Since you sent a qin, you must know that the previous one was already broken?”

Xie Chongjin paused, then nodded. “Mm.”

Lu Xuechao had never mentioned what became of that qin, but he had never brought it out to play again. Yet Xie Chongjin had strictly commanded the servants sent to care for Lu Xuechao in the Cold Palace to report his every action daily, all to ease his own unbearable longing. Thus, he naturally knew about Lu Xuechao’s act of smashing the qin.

Lu Xuechao was not born with omniscience. Before awakening, having suffered such immense injustice, his longing had cut into his bones and his obsession had turned into a deep sorrow, making it impossible not to harbor resentment. He had always cherished Xie Chongjin’s gifts; he had even carefully preserved the small toys given during their childhood to this day, let alone the Yearning Zither gifted by Xie Chongjin during the year of their marriage. He used to wipe it down constantly and play it in his leisure time.

He loved the qin, but he loved Xie Chongjin even more. For someone so distant, cold, and self-restrained to commit such a resolute act as smashing his qin showed just how heartbroken and hopeless he had been at the time.

When Xie Chongjin first heard of it, his heart felt as though it were being cut by knives. Lu Xuechao breaking the qin strings meant his heart had completely died. Even though Xie Chongjin was in excruciating pain, he still couldn’t go see him.

Xie Chongjin murmured, “It was right to break it. Now that we can stay together, there is no need for yearning apart.”

“Those years…” Xie Chongjin lowered his eyes. “It was not that I didn’t harmonize with you.”

“While you played the qin alone, I played the se alone. Divided by palace walls, bound by two places of longing,” Xie Chongjin said. “‘For no reason, the fifty strings of the intricately carved se each string, each bridge, recalls the fleeting years of youth.’ Qingshu, it was never unrequited longing on your end. Night after night… I resonated with you.”

“It was only a pity that the sound of the se from Zichen Palace could not reach the Cold Palace, unable to join your qin.”

“Regardless, I ultimately failed you. If Qingshu remembers the past and does not wish to see me, I shall return to Zichen Palace to sleep alone tonight,” Xie Chongjin said dejectedly. “Just… please don’t be unhappy.”

With that, he made a move to leave.

“…Who said I was truly driving you away?” Lu Xuechao couldn’t help but say.

“Bring your se,” Lu Xuechao turned his face away. “I haven’t heard it in a long time. I want to hear it again.”

Xie Chongjin was stunned for a moment, then his eyes and brows crinkled into a gentle, radiant smile.

Lu Xuechao sat before the Together Forever Zither and asked Xie Chongjin, “I haven’t touched a qin in a long time and have grown somewhat rusty. If I play now, can you still harmonize with me?”

Xie Chongjin smiled softly. “Though I have neglected much over the years, my longing was never broken, and my understanding of music remains refined.”

Lu Xuechao nodded, lowered his eyes, and lightly plucked the strings with his long fingers. After only a brief moment of deliberation, a series of fluid, flowing melodies poured forth.

Xie Chongjin listened closely and realized it wasn’t any known piece.

In the past, when they played together, it was the sweet pastime of a young married couple—playing pieces like High Mountains and Flowing Water or tunes full of tender affection, mostly elegant, lighthearted, and joyous in tone. But the melody Lu Xuechao played now was steeped in poignant sorrow, grief, bitterness, struggle, resentment, and despair.

It was as if all the grief and hatred in the world were woven into it.

The sound of the qin resembled weeping, giving voice to a yearning that cut into the bone.

Yet as he played such a tune, his expression remained tranquil.

Xie Chongjin’s heart trembled, a dense, prickling pain spreading through his chest.

He knew Qingshu had suffered greatly over those years. But Qingshu rarely displayed his grievances before him. Aside from his initial loss of control, his only tears later on were shed when Xie Chongjin suffered mental trauma—never once crying for his own plight. Lu Xuechao knew that voicing his grievances would only weigh down Xie Chongjin with greater guilt and self-loathing, so he had always exerted extreme restraint.

Now, entrusting his feelings to the qin, everything was laid bare.

Entrusting the heart’s thoughts to the jade qin. Since the soulmate is here, he will finally hear and understand.

This was not a tune composed by predecessors; it was the agony of love and hate Lu Xuechao had endured over those years—a piece only he could play.

And in this world, Xie Chongjin was the only person who could feel the exact same pain and harmonize with it.

Xie Chongjin listened for a moment, then plucked his own strings to resonate.

Once, two hearts longed in separate places unheard; now, a single melody harmonizes, two hearts as one.

Outside the hall, hearing the qin and se echo from within, Shuangjiang smiled and said, “His Majesty and His Highness are playing music in harmony again just like before. It’s truly wonderful.”

In the past, when the Crown Prince and Crown Princess played the se and qin together, they were inseparable and carefree; the tender affection in their music had been so sweet that even listening to it felt heartwarming.

However, as Shuangjiang kept listening, he realized that the sound of the qin and se was exceptionally desolute—entirely different from their state of mind in the past.

The other palace servants were already weeping softly, lowering their heads to wipe away their tears in secret.

Shuangjiang admonished in a low voice, “His Majesty and His Highness are still inside. What manner of decorum is this, weeping and crying like this?”

A servant sobbed softly, “Shuangjiang-gege, please forgive me, I didn’t mean to. But listening to this qin music makes me miss home so terribly…”

The others nodded with red eyes. The longing within the piece was too dense, its emotional pull too potent, making it exceedingly easy to empathize; they were all reminded of their families outside the palace.

Shuangjiang felt a chill on his cheeks and realized he was crying as well.

He was a domestic servant born in the Prime Minister’s Manor, raised alongside His Highness from childhood; he had no lover to yearn for, nor did he understand romantic longing. Yet as he listened to this music, his heart ached excruciatingly—aching so much he could barely breathe, as though stumbling aimlessly in endless darkness, trapped in eternal torment. He desperately wished for the tune to end quickly so he could find relief.

Just what kind of ordeal must one go through to play such a desperate melody?

This joint performance left the palace servants of Chongxue Palace feeling deeply sorrowful.

Fortunately, at the edge of despair, the path shifted and light broke through.

The sound of the qin suddenly grew clear and bright, and the se chimed in with gentle warmth, as if pursuing and comforting—like warm sunshine pouring in, morning clouds rising, snow melting away, and the long night drawing to its end.

The melody turned harmonious and soft, like two scarred individuals licking each other’s wounds, slowly healing.

Finally, it rose again, high and spirited—the qin and se resonating together, standing side by side, as though reborn anew.

The weeping servants turned their tears into smiles, the gloom in their hearts completely dispelled, feeling as though they had heard hope.

A truly grand composition possessed the power to strike the heartstrings and shake the soul.

Shuangjiang smiled through his tears, letting out a sigh of relief. Listening only to the first half, he had almost feared his master was overcome with despair and wished to end his life. Thank goodness for the second half—thank goodness His Majesty was there to accompany him…

That qin and that se, entwined with one another, relying on each other—neither could be dispensed with. Without either tone, the other would not have been able to endure until the song’s end.

Inside the hall, as the piece concluded, the two looked at each other and smiled.

No words were needed. The qin and se spoke the language of the heart, revealing everything clearly.

The great sorrows and joys they had shared were all encapsulated within this resonance of qin and se.

“This tune is wonderful; I want to write it down,” Lu Xuechao mused. “What name do you think suits it? How about Boundless Longing?”

Xie Chongjin shook his head. “I prefer to call it Song of the Returning Boat.”

On a night in Jiangnan, they had rowed a boat deep into the lotus blossoms. He had wielded the oars to push against the wind and rain, anchoring the boat safely at the shore.

Longing is boundless, and the sea of suffering is endless.

I have someone who will share the wind and rain in the same boat, and I will lead his boat safely to shore.