Lin Wanqing stood beside the stream in the rear garden of the Imperial College, her fingers unconsciously twisting the edge of her sleeve.
Her second brother’s book satchel was tucked in her arms.
Inside were the policy essay he had to turn in that day, along with several books of commentaries he urgently needed.
Her mother had gone to the residence of the Marquis of Yongning, and Lin Wanqing had been anxiously waiting at home.
The satchel should have been delivered by a servant.
Yet, on a sudden impulse, she had insisted on bringing it herself.
Morning light filtered through the gaps between the locust tree’s leaves, dappling the lotus-colored jacket she wore.
She stood behind an old locust tree, watching from afar the group of students studying music theory by the stream.
The sound of zithers drifted toward her in fits and starts.
It was not particularly pleasant. Several notes were obviously wrong.
She was looking for someone.
Someone who had kept her awake for several nights ever since she returned from the flower-viewing gathering.
“Miss, you’ve been standing here for quite a while. Would you like me to go and have someone announce your arrival?”
The maid behind her asked in a quiet voice.
Lin Wanqing shook her head, her gaze continuing to search through the group.
Suddenly, the music changed.
The halting melody from before seemed to be picked up and joined to another passage by something unseen.
The tune instantly became smooth and flowing.
Every note was like a carefully polished pearl, falling one by one onto the surface of the water and sending out rings of invisible ripples.
Lin Wanqing’s breath caught for a beat.
She saw him.
At the spot farthest upstream, a young man sat on a slab of blue-gray stone, a seven-string qin resting before him.
He wore a moon-white robe, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing a small stretch of pale wrist.
Lin Wanqing could not make out what piece he was playing. She only felt that every note struck directly at the deepest point of her heart.
The music was sometimes as high and powerful as a boulder plunging from a mountain, and sometimes soft and lingering as a murmuring stream.
Her heartbeat followed its rise and fall. At times, it raced as though it might leap right out of her throat; at others, it slowed until she thought it might stop altogether.
The maid behind her was captivated by the music as well.
She rose onto her toes and craned her neck toward the stream, muttering, “He plays even better than the court musicians did last time.”
Lin Wanqing said nothing. All her attention had been stolen by the young man playing the qin.
As he reached the most exhilarating part of the piece, the young man slowly closed his eyes.
The wind swept past, lifting the loose strands at his temples. A few fell across the strings, but he did not notice at all.
Lin Wanqing’s fingers slowly tightened around the strap of the satchel, her knuckles taking on a faint flush.
The melody suddenly soared another note higher.
It was as though something had been hurled into the sky, only to explode at its highest point and scatter into countless tiny notes that drifted back down.
Lin Wanqing’s heart rose with the music, then fell again.
When the piece ended, the surroundings fell silent for a brief moment.
Then scattered voices of praise rang out from among the students. Some applauded, some cheered, and others called for “one more song.”
The young man opened his eyes, lifted his hands from the strings, and rested them on his knees.
He turned to say something to a young man beside him, the faintest smile touching the corners of his lips.
Lin Wanqing could not see his expression clearly, but she could imagine what that smile looked like.
She had seen it before.
Whenever she thought of it, her heart began to race.
“Miss, why don’t we go over? You can’t see much from here.”
The maid spoke in a low voice again.
Lin Wanqing hesitated. She lowered her head to look at the satchel in her arms, then raised it to look at the moon-white figure beside the stream.
Her feet lingered uncertainly on the ground for a long while. In the end, she stepped forward.
She walked very slowly.
It was only a few dozen paces from behind the old locust tree to the stream, yet it took her a long time to cross them.
Every step felt as though she were walking on cotton—soft, weightless, and unsteady.
By the time she reached the stream, the students were gathering up their instruments.
Some carried their zithers away, others picked up their flutes, and groups of two or three passed by her while chatting.
Several of the young men noticed her. They froze slightly, then instinctively glanced toward someone behind them.
Lin Wanqing pretended not to notice their looks and walked straight toward the moon-white figure.
“Excuse me, is Lin Zhilin here?”
Her voice was neither loud nor soft, just audible enough for the people nearby to hear.
A round-faced young man turned to look at her and pointed downstream.
“Lin Zhilin? He was here just now. I think he went over there to look for something.”
Lin Wanqing glanced in that direction.
Downstream stood a grove of bamboo, its leaves rustling in the breeze.
She was hesitating over whether to go look for him when a set of footsteps sounded behind her.
“Are you here looking for Lin Zhilin?”
The voice was clear and gentle, as though it had been washed by spring water. Every word made her ears tingle.
Lin Wanqing’s heart gave a violent thump.
She turned around and discovered that the young man who had been playing the qin was standing before her. He was nearly half a head taller than she was and was looking down at her.
Up close, his face was even more breathtaking than it had been from a distance.
As he gazed quietly at her, she felt as though something had washed her from head to toe, leaving every pore in her body shouting, Don’t look! Stop looking!
But her eyes refused to obey.
“I…I came to bring my second brother his satchel. He left in such a hurry this morning that he forgot to take it.”
Lin Wanqing’s voice sounded a little airy. Her fingers tightened again and again around the strap.
She tried her best to keep her gaze from being so obvious, but her eyes simply would not listen.
Shi Huai nodded, a gentle smile at the corners of his lips. “Your second brother just went toward the bamboo grove. I’ll take you to find him.”
He turned and began walking toward the grove. After taking two steps, he realized Lin Wanqing had not followed and stopped to look back at her.
“What’s wrong?”
Lin Wanqing came back to herself and hurried after him.
Her steps were somewhat flustered. She nearly tripped over a root poking from the ground, and by the time she steadied herself, her face had flushed all the way to the base of her neck.
The two of them walked side by side along the path beside the stream.
Sunlight spilled down from above, casting two overlapping shadows onto the flagstones.
Lin Wanqing stole a glance at Shi Huai, then quickly looked away.
She discovered that his profile was even more handsome than his face from the front.
His Adam’s apple also protruded slightly, rising and falling as he spoke, as though something inside him were leaping.
“Your second brother was late this morning and got scolded by the teacher. He wasn’t looking too happy.”
A trace of amusement colored Shi Huai’s voice. “If you see him, don’t tell him I said that.”
His voice made Lin Wanqing’s ears itch. Her fingers twisted the satchel strap even more tightly.
“I won’t. I won’t tell him.”
At the entrance to the bamboo grove, Lin Zhilin was crouched on the ground, searching for something.
He wore a dark-blue robe, and his hair was slightly disheveled, making him look thoroughly disheveled.
Hearing footsteps, he raised his head. When he saw his younger sister walking toward him alongside Shi Huai, he froze for a moment.
Then his expression darkened at once.
