The Great Song Dynasty's Soul-Forging in Progress

The stairs creaked softly.

Li Jingniang descended the steps, dressed in a plain white silk dress, without any makeup, a stark contrast to her elaborate attire when she received the Prince of Xiangyang. A small white magnolia blossom adorned her hair, making her resemble a white lotus just lifted from the moonlight. Upon seeing Wang Zhonghua, she paused slightly, then regained her composure.

"Young Master Wang, how have you been?"

"But Li Dajia is..." Wang Zhonghua turned around, his gaze lingering on her face, "completely different from before."

Li Jingniang remained expressionless, sat down at the table, and personally poured tea: "Did you hear everything, young master?"

"I heard some of it."

"Which ones?"

"I heard Li Dajia say that she sang 'Man Jiang Hong' for me to highlight the prince's favor." Wang Zhonghua sat down opposite her without touching the teacup. "I also heard Li Dajia say that her voice was so good because the prince spent a lot of money to hire a famous doctor to treat it."

Li Jingniang looked up at him, her eyes, which always held a gentle smile, now held a deep, unfathomable calm: "Does Young Master believe me?"

"I don't believe it."

Why?

"Because of the fire in Li Dajia's heart," Wang Zhonghua said, emphasizing each word, "not just anyone can ignite it."

Li Jingniang's hand holding the teapot trembled slightly.

The tea spilled, spreading a puddle on the table. She looked down at the puddle, then suddenly smiled, a bitter smile tinged with sadness: "Young master, do you know what happened to the last person who asked me for a light?"

"I would like to hear the details."

"That person has long since turned to ashes." Li Jingniang put down the teapot. "And I, hailed as the most beautiful courtesan in this 'capital's premier pleasure house,' spend my days playing music and singing lyrics, winning over hearts and gathering intelligence for the prince. Did the young master come to me tonight to borrow this... burnt ashes?"

Wang Zhonghua shook his head: "I'm looking for fire, not ashes."

"fire?"

"That day in Chenzhou, when Li Dajia sang 'Man Jiang Hong,' she mispronounced three notes when she sang 'Thirty years of fame and glory are but dust and dirt, eight thousand miles of road are but clouds and moon.'" Wang Zhonghua's voice was low and deep. "But I didn't stop, because I knew that those three wrong notes were more correct than the original melody."

Li Jingniang suddenly looked up.

She looked at Wang Zhonghua, her eyes filled with shock, bewilderment, and a raw, almost naked shyness at having her deepest secret exposed. It was something hidden deep within her, something even the Prince of Xiangyang had never glimpsed. She thought her lapse that night had long since vanished with the moonlight of Chenzhou, carried away by the winds of Yunhu Lake.

But I remembered the person in front of me.

"Does the young master know why?" Her voice was a little hoarse.

"Because it's a solitary outrage." Wang Zhonghua looked directly into her eyes. "It's not a performance, not a social obligation, but a cry from someone trapped in one abyss to another."

A long silence fell over the hall.

Outside the window, Bianjing remained as prosperous as ever, with music and laughter drifting through the courtyards, as if from another world.

Li Jingniang suddenly stood up, walked to the window, and opened it, letting the night breeze disperse the lingering fragrance in the hall. Moonlight streamed in, illuminating her plain white dress as if it were plated with silver. With her back to Wang Zhonghua, she spoke softly, almost to herself:

"Does my lord know why I have been chosen as the most beautiful courtesan?"

"I would like to hear the details."

"Because I understand music, and even more so, I understand people's hearts." She turned around, the moonlight outlining her face clearly. "The prince needs someone to build a bridge between him and those literati, officials, and nobles. This bridge must be elegant, dignified, and people must willingly cross it, and also..."

"We also need to subtly make people leave behind what they should and shouldn't say," Wang Zhonghua continued.

"Young master is clever." Li Jingniang smiled, but there was no pride in her smile, only weariness. "So every day I play music and sing lyrics, watching them reveal their secrets in their drunken haze, watching them, through my pipa music, call conspiracies elegant, and transactions like kindred spirits. I am a bridge, and also a lock—locking myself in, and locking away those who think they have entered my heart."

She walked back a few steps, sat down again, and looked at Wang Zhonghua: "Young master, did you come to see me tonight to borrow this lock to pick another lock?"

She paused, then suddenly whispered, "It reminds me of someone. I heard bits and pieces about what happened in Chenzhou later." She raised her eyes, her gaze piercing Wang Zhonghua like needles. "Miss Qin... is she well?"

"Thanks to the Yang family of Tianbo, we are temporarily protected," Wang Zhonghua said succinctly.

"Tianbo Mansion..." Li Jingniang murmured repeatedly, a hint of understanding flashing in her eyes, followed by a deeper complexity. "That's good. The threshold of Tianbo Mansion is not easily crossed by ordinary people, nor... easily left." Her words seemed to have a deeper meaning, yet she only touched upon it briefly. She carefully folded the handkerchief and put it into her sleeve, as if she were putting away a past that was unbearable to recall yet impossible to sever.

"Ms. Li," Wang Zhonghua said suddenly as he watched her put away her handkerchief, "I have come here today with another request."

Li Jingniang's eyelashes trembled slightly. She picked up the untouched teacup in front of her, took a small sip, and used this action to conceal her emotions: "Young master, please speak freely. However, I am merely a woman of humble origins, and my abilities are limited, I'm afraid..."

"This matter can only be accomplished by Master Li," Wang Zhonghua interrupted her, his gaze intense. "I want to use Master Li's help to put on a 'new song' in this Bianjing city."

"A new song?" Li Jingniang put down her teacup, a genuine look of doubt flashing in her eyes, along with a hint of instinctive interest sparked by the topic of her professional field.

"Yes, a new piece, which could also be called opera or drama! I came to ask Master Li—" Wang Zhonghua took out a piece of paper from his pocket and slowly unfolded it, "to try this lock, whether you are willing to melt away your inner knot?"

The paper was covered with densely packed writing. The title, in three large characters, read: "The Injustice to Liu E."

Li Jingniang took it and examined it closely by candlelight. The more she looked, the brighter her eyes became, and the more she looked, the more her hands trembled.

"This is……"

"This is the story of Liu Xinyi and Qin Tiehua of Chenzhou, and also..." Wang Zhonghua paused, "and also the story of countless 'Liu Xinyi's' who were trampled on by power in this great Song Dynasty. I changed the name and the dynasty, but the essence remains the same—murdering one's wife and children, betraying one's conscience, officials protecting each other, and the injustice sinking to the bottom of the sea."

He added, "Liu Xinyi is the benefactor of my Sanyi Village, the doctor of the soldiers on the front line, and also..." He didn't finish his sentence, but Li Jingniang understood everything from the pain in his eyes.

"Young master wants me..."

"This 'The Tragedy of Liu E' is no ordinary piece of music." Wang Zhonghua leaned forward slightly, his voice lower yet carrying a strange, persuasive power. "It's a completely new kind of drama, one that makes you feel 'there.' On stage, living people act out real events, joys and sorrows, loyalty and treachery, good and evil, striking directly at your face and striking straight to your heart!"

Li Jingniang's hand gripping the cup tightened almost imperceptibly. A spark of light suddenly ignited in her beautiful eyes, which always carried a hint of weariness and a touch of wariness—the instinctive flame that ignites in an artist upon hearing a brilliant idea. But this spark flickered only briefly before being shrouded in deeper mist. She lowered her eyelashes, her tone returning to its usual calm: "Young master, you have great ambitions. However… in this Bianjing city, even new tunes aren't always performed smoothly, let alone something as unheard of as 'opera'?"

"That's why we need someone like Master Li, whose art is unparalleled in the capital and who understands the intricacies of the craft, to steer the ship." Wang Zhonghua looked directly at her, speaking slowly but clearly. "I already have a rough outline of the script, titled 'The Tragedy of Liu E.' It tells the story of a kind-hearted female doctor who, in order to save her sworn sister's family, offends powerful figures, is falsely accused of poisoning them, and is imprisoned on death row. Before her execution, she makes three vows that move heaven and earth, ultimately leading to her exoneration."

With each word he spoke, Li Jingniang's eyelashes trembled. When she heard "the three vows," she abruptly looked up, meeting Wang Zhonghua's unfathomable eyes. In them, there was no pleading, no pity, only a cold, almost cruel clarity, and a... tacit understanding between kindred spirits.

She suddenly understood. This wasn't a simple plea for help; it was an artistic conspiracy, a battle using drama as a blade to directly confront reality. He saw through her hidden heart, concealed beneath her worldliness and caution, a heart driven by an extreme pursuit of art and an instinctive indignation at injustice.

The air fell silent again, but unlike the previous stillness, it held a different kind of silent exchange and weighing of things.

After a long while, Li Jingniang let out a soft sigh, her voice trembling. She picked up her teacup again, her fingertips icy cold, but her voice was strangely calm, even carrying a faint, almost ethereal smile: "Young master's story... it sounds somewhat like the 'Filial Woman of the Eastern Sea' that circulated in the previous dynasty."

"Art originates from humanity but transcends it," Wang Zhonghua said.

"What a perfect phrase, 'originating from the human world yet transcending it,'" Li Jingniang said, gazing at the tea leaves floating in her cup, her voice becoming dazed. "The human world... this Bianjing city, seemingly a tapestry of flowers and splendor, is actually a stage for drama everywhere. Some sing of loyalty, filial piety, and righteousness, some act out charades, and some... can hardly even tell who they are anymore." Her words sounded like a sigh, yet also like self-mockery, revealing a deep weariness.

She paused, then suddenly looked up. The mist in her beautiful eyes dissipated, leaving only a clear, almost resolute, clarity: "Young Master Wang, do you know how many people and resources are needed to rehearse such a 'new play'? And how many eyes will it attract?"

"I know," Wang Zhonghua nodded. "That's why it needs to be done in secret. Personnel, location, and cover all need to be perfect. I'm new here and completely clueless. Only Master Li can find that hidden channel in the deep waters of Bianjing."

Li Jingniang looked at him and suddenly smiled. This time, the smile was more genuine, yet it still carried that indescribable, slightly bitter undertone: "Young master certainly knows how to flatter me. As for the waterway... am I not myself, treading on thin ice in this very pool of water?"

Even so, her gaze was no longer wandering. An artist's instinct, the flame that had never been extinguished deep within her heart, the complex and indescribable feelings and sense of kinship she had for the man before her, and the palpitation she felt for the overwhelming injustice she vaguely sensed behind the "Chenzhou Story"... all these intertwined emotions caused something long dormant in her blood to quietly revive.

She had unconsciously entered a state of artistic conception, forgetting the surrounding crisis and her own situation.