Xie Lin truly adored watching her dance.
Not only did he watch, but he also offered critiques—not on Jiang Yunshu’s dancing itself, but on her attire and accessories.
Jiang Yunshu silently mused that if Xie Lin were in modern times, he’d undoubtedly be the most nitpicky audience member when it came to costumes, makeup, and stage design!
“This dance is from the previous dynasty, so why aren’t you wearing garments from that era? Chunfen, summon the seamstress from the Imperial Wardrobe Bureau who specializes in historical attire.”
“This dance embodies opulence and grandeur, so your clothing and jewelry should reflect that. You’re dressed too plainly. Chunfen, bring me the catalog of accessories.”
“Your makeup should be adjusted…”
“The tips of your shoes should be adorned with pearls…”
Jiang Yunshu’s collection of garments and accessories grew at a staggering pace, filling room after room to her utter astonishment.
One room housed nothing but ornate hair crowns, so lavishly crafted that the gold alone could buy a sprawling five-courtyard mansion in the capital.
Another room was dedicated solely to pearl jewelry, including priceless eastern pearls that could effortlessly purchase a lakeside estate with its own mountain on the outskirts of the city.
By the time Xie Lin selected the finest eastern pearls to embellish her dancing shoes, Jiang Yunshu had grown numb to it all.
She even found herself agreeing with him—the most intricate and beautiful part of this dance was the movement of the toes, and pearls on her shoes showcased its elegance far better than if they were worn in her hair…
Unbeknownst to her, Xie Lin’s relentless pursuit of these treasures had caused quite a stir.
Nor did she know how the faintest whispers of it had sent shockwaves through the capital’s high society.
The Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord had a woman he lavished with unparalleled affection—a secret that spread like wildfire among noblewomen’s tea parties, with some even convinced she was a fox spirit descended from the mountains.
Jiang Yunshu was also unaware that her elder sister, Jiang Zhaohua, had caught wind of the rumors. At first, Jiang Zhaohua was terrified, fearing the woman by the Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord’s side might be Jiang Yunshu. But upon hearing that the Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord was searching for a renowned zither, she grew certain it couldn’t be her.
If Jiang Yunshu knew how her sister had reasoned it out, she’d have pointed out the flaw in her logic.
Yes, she couldn’t play the zither.
But who said the Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord’s sought-after zither was meant for her?
Jiang Yunshu danced beneath the osmanthus tree while Xie Lin played the zither beside her.
After finishing one piece, he shook his head and said to Chunfen, “Keep searching.”
Jiang Yunshu sighed—this was already the seventh famed zither Xie Lin had rejected.
Xie Lin was undoubtedly a perfectionist, perhaps even obsessive or borderline tyrannical…
His exacting standards for music weighed heavily on her. Was her dancing even worthy of such exquisite melodies?
At first, Xie Lin summoned musicians from the Imperial Music Bureau to accompany her. But he cycled through every one of them without finding a single satisfactory performer.
Jiang Yunshu thought every musician was perfectly fine, and just as she mentally grumbled, If you’re so picky, why don’t you do it yourself?—
Xie Lin actually did.
He took the zither and played a piece himself.
Jiang Yunshu was stunned. Xie Lin’s skill far surpassed even the most accomplished musicians in the Imperial Music Bureau…
“Why has Her Ladyship stopped dancing to stare at this servant’s hands?” Xie Lin asked lazily.
Jiang Yunshu’s face flushed crimson.
She’d been marveling at how hands that dealt death could also produce such enchanting music. Then again, given how long and dexterous Xie Lin’s fingers were, they were practically made for the zither.
Lost in thought, she’d forgotten to look away.
“Does Her Ladyship find this servant’s hands pleasing?”
Jiang Yunshu hastily shook her head. “N-no… I don’t…”
That night, beneath the newly changed emerald gauze canopy of the autumn bedchamber, Xie Lin murmured, “Why doesn’t Her Ladyship like this servant’s hands?”
“Does she dislike this?”
“Or this?”
Jiang Yunshu shut her eyes, unwilling to look at Xie Lin’s immaculate robes or his composed expression.
Xie Lin’s voice darkened. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”
“Her Ladyship’s eyes belong to this servant now. Where this servant commands her to look, she will look.”
---
The eighth zither Xie Lin acquired finally met his standards.
From then on, whenever Jiang Yunshu danced, Xie Lin played for her.
And during these moments, he allowed no one else to be present. The sight of Jiang Yunshu dancing was for his eyes alone.
The way her breath quickened, the faint sheen of sweat on her skin, the blush dusting her cheeks…
But what captivated Xie Lin most was the utter focus and rapture in her expression.
In those moments, Jiang Yunshu’s eyes reflected only him beneath the osmanthus tree, his fingers gliding over the strings.
This small courtyard was their entire world.
A world with only Jiang Yunshu dancing and him playing the zither.
It was a tranquility Xie Lin had never known—no schemes, no bloodshed, just two souls beneath the osmanthus tree.
The sound of the zither drifted from the courtyard daily, and the servants of Weiyang Palace assumed it was Jiang Yunshu playing for the Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord.
Young maids and eunuchs whispered among themselves:
“No wonder she’s bewitched the Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord…”
“To play the zither so beautifully…”
“Today’s melody is even more tender than before…”
The head steward of Weiyang Palace overheard and smirked. “Do you value your lives so little, gossiping about the Lord’s woman?”
The servants dropped to their knees in panic, kowtowing and begging for mercy, swearing they’d never dare again.
The steward let them grovel before finally waving them off. “Consider yourselves lucky it was me who caught you. Had it been the Lord, you’d already be dead.”
These young servants hadn’t attended the Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord long enough to recognize his playing, assuming the music came from Lady Jiang.
But the steward had served Xie Lin for over a decade. Though the Lord disliked the scent of adults and rarely met with them, the steward knew more than these ignorant juniors…
The amorous melodies drifting from that secluded courtyard?
They weren’t Lady Jiang’s—they were the Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord’s!
The steward quietly reflected on how long it had been since he’d last heard his master play.
Nearly ten years…
Back then, Xie Lin’s music had been cold and ruthless. Now it was tender, playful, even wistful—today’s piece especially so, dripping with longing.
The young servants thought Lady Jiang played for the Lord, unable to resist gossiping.
Little did they know it was the Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord playing for her.
Had they known the truth, they’d have fainted from terror!
Even the steward, who’d weathered countless storms at Xie Lin’s side, felt his mind reel at the realization.
The more he understood the Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord, the less he could fathom why Lady Jiang was the exception.
He’d once believed no one in this world would ever earn the Lord’s favor.
