The Mirror of Startling Beauty: Her courtiers are everywhere

"Madam Feng," Shen Yan rose gracefully, holding a fan to half-cover her lips, her voice gentle and melodious.

"I have long heard that Princess Jing received personal instruction from the immortal musician Fuxue in her youth, and her musical skills are extraordinary. Today, at this elegant gathering of plum blossoms, if we could invite the princess to play a piece to set the tone for the banquet, wouldn't that be a wonderful story?"

Her sapphire blue dress was quite elegant, but Tang Xixue's flowing ice silk dress was so dazzling that it made her look like a piece of rubble next to a pearl.

Since her looks were no match for her beauty, she would use her most proficient skill, the zither, to overwhelm this empty-headed princess who had nothing but a pretty face.

She wanted to show all the nobles in the garden who the truly talented woman was.

Upon hearing this, Madam Feng's eyes lit up with a genuine smile, and she looked kindly towards the attic terrace:

"Yes, it's been a long time since I've heard Ah Xue play the zither, and I really miss it."

She turned to look at Tang Xixue, her tone as gentle as if she were speaking to a younger family member.

"I wonder if Ah Xue would be willing to play a tune for us today?"

The Lady of Zhenbei Marquis always doted on Tang Xixue, but little did she know the hidden veil of sarcasm in Shen Yan's words.

She only remembered that snowy night many years ago, when the little girl sat under the plum tree playing the zither. The zither music was clear and melodious, like shattered jade falling onto an ice plate, and even the sparrows perched on the branches stood quietly listening.

Tang Xixue slowly rose from the Xiangfei bamboo chair, her snow-white veil fluttering in the wind, revealing a serene smile on her lips:

"Thanks to Madam's kind invitation and Miss Shen's special invitation, Jingzhi will now entertain you all with a piece of music, 'Yanyu Yuntai,' as a way to welcome distinguished guests from all directions amidst the fragrant snow in this garden."

As soon as she finished speaking, a boy's clear voice came from below:

"Quickly! Bring Ah Xue her Dream-Burning Sword!"

Feng Zhuo strode swiftly through the plum blossom path, his crimson outfit brushing away the snow from the branches, his flamboyant eyes gleaming with undisguised joy.

He waved towards the attic, then turned and urged the servants:

"It's stored in the sandalwood cabinet in the east wing of Tingxue Studio. Handle it carefully!"

A moment later, four maids solemnly carried a zither case through the snow.

The moment the box lid was opened, the surroundings suddenly fell silent.

It was a seven-stringed zither, entirely crimson in color.

The body of the instrument is made of century-old flame-wood heartwood, and the edges are decorated with openwork glass wave and cloud patterns.

The head of the zither is inlaid with a whole piece of crystal-clear glass, inside which gold wire is coiled into a lotus pattern, flowing with a warm and lustrous color under the snow.

The zither pegs were carved from black jade and tied with three-foot-long red gold tassels that swayed and shone.

The most eye-catching feature is the tail of the zither, where a line of small seal script is inlaid with gold thread as fine as a hair:

"I burn my seven-foot body to warm your three-winter dream."

Feng Zhuo personally took the zither and looked up at the terrace.

The young general had shed his battlefield ferocity, and his eyes were as clear as they had been many years ago when he held the little princess and picked flowers under the weeping crabapple tree.

"Ah Xue," he said, lifting the zither high, his voice carrying a solemnity only they understood, "your zither."

Tang Xixue lowered her eyes to look at that fiery red, a very faint ripple passing through her eyes.

She nodded slightly, her snow-white shawl brushing against the railing, and as she turned, the ice crystal pendants in her hair clinked together with a clear, cool sound.

The maid Qingdai had already set up the zither table in the center of the terrace.

The crimson "Burning Dream" rests quietly in the snow, its flowing flame-like wood grain resembling the sunset reflected in a cold pool, shimmering against the gleaming snow, like a flame frozen but never extinguished.

It waits, waiting for the fingertips of the violinist to awaken those burning vows deeply engraved in the rings of time, and to transform them into the flowing river of sound.

All eyes in the garden converge on the terrace.

"When did Little Snowflake learn to play the piano? Shen Yan is clearly deliberately making things difficult for my wife!"

Hua Rongshi's eyes suddenly turned cold, and she snapped her jade fan shut, her gaze piercing the sapphire blue figure in the waterside pavilion like an ice spike.

"By taking advantage of Lady Feng's presence and the envoys from various countries, they have placed people on this high platform... Their intentions are despicable."

He frowned and muttered to himself.

"I've never heard her play the zither; it's said throughout the land that she's all show and no substance..."

He paused abruptly, his gaze fixed on the snow-white figure on the terrace, unable to look away, his tone suddenly tinged with infatuation.

"If we really have to set aside beauty—well, how can we set that aside? My wife would be as radiant as the moon in the clouds even if she were wearing a burlap sack..."

As he spoke, he clapped his hands and sighed softly.

Even if she is completely ignorant of music and arts, just by standing there, she is the most beautiful sight in the world.

"Noisy." Bei Chenji uttered two words, his thin lips revealing a turbulent undercurrent in the depths of his purple eyes.

Hearing those piercing cries of "My wife," his iron fingers hidden in his sleeves nearly crushed the jade pendant in his palm.

If this person had even drunk half a cup of tea, he wouldn't be so ridiculously drunk.

"Don't you think so, cousin?"

Hua Rongshi tilted her head and leaned closer, her peach blossom eyes flashing with a playful light.

"My wife's beauty surpasses your darling's by more than a thousand times, ten thousand times!"

"Be careful what you say." Bei Chenji glanced at him sideways, his eyes filled with a chilling frost.

"I have never had a sweetheart. If you continue to slander my reputation—"

He lightly tapped the table with his fingertips, leaving a three-tenths of a fingerprint on the sandalwood surface.

"Why not give it a try?"

He used to not care about such empty fame, and let the world's slander pass by like a gentle breeze.

But ever since that meeting at Jingye Xuelu last night…

We must not let Xiaoxue'er hear even a single inappropriate rumor.

Hua Rongshi paused, then widened her eyes: "Cousin, did you take the wrong medicine today?"

Before he could finish speaking, he was met with a cold glare, the gaze as sharp as a blade scraping his bones, which terrified him into silence.

Beneath the plum blossoms on the other side, Kong Sangling clutched her brother's sleeve, her voice barely audible:

"Brother, what if Princess Jing really doesn't play well... and loses face in front of all these nobles in the garden? What should we do then?"

She glanced timidly in Shen Yan's direction.

"Did Sister Yan do it on purpose?"

Kong Sangyu's lips curled into a playful smile:

"Sister Yan knows what she's doing, there's no need for you or me to interfere."

He looked up at the terrace, his blue eyes reflecting the seated figure, who seemed to be waiting for a good show.

Inside the Juyue Pavilion, Si Xingxuan suddenly coughed softly.

He tapped his pale knuckles twice on the stone table, and a poisonous moth with wings gleaming with a ghostly blue light silently fluttered its wings from his sleeve, flew through the sparse plum branches, and headed straight for the Floating Fragrance Pavilion.

"Those ignorant fools."

He lowered his eyes and spoke softly, his voice carrying the coldness of years steeped in herbs.

"You played terribly?"

Si Xingzhou raised an eyebrow and looked over, thinking that his younger brother was commenting on Tang Xixue's piano skills.

Si Xingxuan did not answer, but only stared at the terrace.

A faint trace of worry flickered in the depths of those eyes, which always held a sickly air and aloofness—she was very strong-willed, and if she were to embarrass herself in public… she would probably hide away and cry secretly.

In the Shuying Pavilion, Yan Ci twirled a bamboo folding fan between his fingertips.

"Your Majesty," he said, looking at the emperor standing by the window, "your ninth sister is not without her own schemes. She's trying to embarrass the young prince in public... Should I go and mediate?"

Tang Xi stood with her hands behind her back by the window, her wide sleeves with black and gold dragon patterns hanging down as deep as the still night.

He didn't turn around, but stared at the figure on the terrace who had already touched the strings of the piano, a smile playing on his lips.

His voice was as steady as a mountain, each word carrying the unwavering confidence of an emperor looking down upon all living beings.

"Since they all look down on my Zhizhi—"

"Then let them open their eyes and watch."

"Looking at the pearl I raised with my own hands, how can it now illuminate this garden full of dust and noise?"