72 On the Top Floor of the Inn

The sun was setting in the east, painting the dark sky in strokes of coppery red.

MingYu kept his promise, and all four people climbed the stairs to the top floor of the three-level inn for a drink. There, they could see over the entire city.

The Ma shop was down the street, now closed, and the wooden doors were drawn shut. Far ahead, large households were walled away with grey stone hedges. The small street-stalls were packing up for the day, while few people still roamed around aimlessly, enjoying the night breeze.

Tea and liquor were brought up and over to their table, as they enjoyed the unobstructed view of the city. The wind rustled through the open balcony, cooling the night air.

To MingYu's surprise, there was no music playing like YueQin had promised off. As he pointed this out, YueQin said,

"The music is not played from here, brother MingYu."

MingYu looked around him, confused about how such a thing was possible. They sat on the highest level, wherever their eyes wandered, only things they could see were low-swooping roofs. If the music didn't come from here, then from where?

PingZe seemed to have read his expression as he swirled his wine in the tiny porcelain cup and said,

"It's true. The music is played from one of the houses below. Oddly enough, when walking on the street, or sitting at the lower levels of the inn, one cannot hear it."

MingYu was baffled of how that could be possible. He strained his ears, and absentmindedly took hold of the tea ZhiYi just handed him.

"I can't hear a thing." MingYu finally said, starting to think the two were pulling a prank on him.

"The music starts when the sun disappears, not sooner, dear customers." A young waiter said from behind MingYu, smiling brightly, crinkling his almond eyes at the four as he placed two more bottles of wine on their table.

"Why is that?" MingYu asked, now growing more curious by the minute.

"It started two months ago. Back then, we still had a young woman coming by to play her pipa, but the music from below kept distracting her song, so she eventually quit. The melody has been playing every night since then, so all is well on our part."

The waiter tossed his table cloth over his shoulder and was ready to leave when MingYu stopped him in his tracks. The question had been weighing on MingYu's mind for some time now, and for once, there was someone who could know the answer.

"What is this banquet about? The one that is coming up?"

The waiter seemed happy to stand around and talk. The third floor was vacant of customers besides the four of them, and the young man shifted his position, crouching down to talk more intimately with his main customers.

"You must be new here," The man started, his eyes looking at them with curiosity. He seemed to have made the assumption that he would be tipped handsomely by the well-dressed men, so he let his tongue run loose. "The banquet is arranged by our humble city official, Lu XiaQiao."

YueQin and ZhiYi exchanged brief glances at the mention of the Lu family name.

"His daughter was sick, or well, when has she not been sick?" The man gave a little chuckle, as if he had said something funny. The four looked at him with tight smiles.

"Born as frail as a flower vase, that young miss Lu. She became bedridden a few months back. Nobody dared to say it out loud, but everyone agreed that this time, she would be a goner. Her mother was as frail, died not long after she was born, they say. Pneumonia, I think. Master Lu was heartbroken. This is his only child and the only memory left of his wife."

The waiter scratched his chin, taking his time as he shuffled on his feet, mulling over what he knew.

"But miss Lu pulled out of her rut. No one has ever seen her so healthy. The doctor has done the impossible, and now everyone is seeking for their treatment. But I heard he only helped master Lu out because of connections."

"What connections?" MingYu and ZhiYi said in unison, startling the waiter. He climbed back up on his feet, laughing lightly at the crew.

"Official Lu knows a lot of officials, who work directly under his highness. For a mere waiter like me, working in this tiny inn, how would I know who sent the doctor down to Wupei?"

With that, he stood there, waiting patiently. ZhiYi reached into his pocket and pulled out a note and handed it to him. Snatching the note and tucking it safely away, he sauntered off, whistling to himself.

"What are you thinking, brother?" PingZe asked after a moment of silence, in which MingYu was sipping his tea through pursed lips, without really tasting anything.

"The doctor, you don't think he is Ye WeiRu?"

ZhiYi nearly choked on his wine, while PingZe broke into a howl of laughter.

YueQin shivered at the thought and said, "I think, if a mortal official dared to send master Ye anywhere, he would die a very slow and painful death."

"YueQin is exceptionally bright." PingZe raised his cup and chuck it down with one clean swallow. He hissed as the pleasant burning sensation caressed his insides.

"Master Ye would never do such things. He is too occupied with his poisons and research to care for mortals or their sufferings. He would only add to it if anything." PingZe snorted loudly as he reached for the wine bottle and poured himself some more.

"But he helped me," MingYu said. If Ye WeiRu was willing to save him, why not others?

PingZe shot ZhiYi a questioning glance. His lips quivered, and it was clear he put effort into keeping them from breaking into a full-blown grin.

YueQin sat up straighter, all ears.

Before ZhiYi could muster up a plausible answer without explaining how he begged at Ye WeiRu's feet, a sullen melody pierced the silence like an autumn wind, cold, yet soothing to the mind and heart. The sun had just disappeared behind the horizon, leaving the night as dark as ink, without a moon or stars to light the way.

MingYu strained his neck, trying to pinpoint the source of the song. It seemed to come from nowhere, and everywhere at once. He recognized the instrument; it was a xun.

The music plucked at his heartstrings, promising of innocent love. Yet the sad undertone turned the song to that of a sorrowful one. Instead of rejoicing over the newly found young passion, the song was now about the mourning of love, one that was lost too soon.

"It's beautiful but so sad." YueQin sighed as she leaned over the wooden railing, enjoying the night air and the soft music.

"Very fitting, I'll admit," PingZe muttered from behind his cup.

MingYu glanced briefly over ZhiYi's mourning clothes and turned his eyes down to his tea. The crew settled to drink and listen to the song, with no one uttering a word.

AhXin shuffled in his basket by their feet but didn't stir.

The silence between them was finally broken when YueQin moved from leaning over the railing to the table.

"Brother MingYu, why did you take pity on us back then?"

MingYu halted mid drinking and placed the cup down gently. He had no memory of those moments, but looking at YueQin, she must have been still very young when he had spared her and Wei LiXue. Wu TianLan had had children. Maybe the girls reminded him of his own, and he didn't want to hurt them.

YueQin nodded eagerly as he relayed his thoughts. "Your daughters are around the same age as me and LiXue."

ZhiYi stiffened, but MingYu paid him no attention. He was too occupied in imagining having kids of his own. Somehow, the thought had never crossed his mind during his first life. He had never wanted to marry a girl, and since he couldn't marry the person he loved either, he hadn't pictured himself having children.

"You must really miss them," YueQin said.

"I have no memories of them, so I don't know what to miss," MingYu said honestly. As cold as it might have seemed, he really didn't know what to miss or who. Wu TianLan felt like an entirely separate entity to him.

Wu TianLan had lived a turbulent life, died a hated man, famed for marrying his own mother. None of these felt like something MingYu could or would do, but here he was, suffering the consequences of his choices.

But he wanted to know why he did what he did, how he had lived his life, how his own children saw their father. Was he a good father? A good husband? None of the stories circulating the world seemed to think so, but now, MingYu had someone who might know a snippet of his past and was willing to tell him too.

This time, it was MingYu who interrupted the tranquil song of the xun.

"YueQin, you knew my daughters?"

As MingYu's words hit the air, ZhiYi choked on his wine.