Song with emotions

The musical instruments of the Douluo Continent were numerous, blending both Eastern and Western styles.

Fortunately, Zhongli was no novice in this area—one of his friends was a master of Western musical instruments, renowned for her unparalleled skill.

Most of the instruments at Moon Pavilion were Western, such as harps and violins. As expected of the nobility—it's something they would appreciate.

However, instruments like the flute or guqin were absent from Moon Pavilion. Although Zhongli was a traditionalist from Liyue, he still had a fondness for that girl's heavy metal music, even if it was an acquired taste for many.

As for dancing, the Great Dendro Archon... Wait?

Zhongli paused, realizing that he shouldn't remember the Great Dendro Archon. In a flash, the memories came to him.

It was from a brief moment in his previous life, those fleeting years…

In Teyvat, aside from the Traveler, no one—neither mortals nor gods—remembered the Great Dendro Archon anymore.

Sigh…

Erosion...

In this world, there was no concept of Erosion, yet for a moment, it felt as though his soul was empty.

Was this the true feeling of losing a dear friend? For gods, emotions were even more complex than for humans. The longer one lived, the more one witnessed, and thus, when the wear set in, the pain only deepened.

Zhongli had witnessed countless deaths, and that friend of his—no, that beloved one—had dissolved into dust right in his arms. From dust they came, and to dust they returned. Perhaps that was her destined end.

Only a single token remained: the Lock of Mortal Dust.

It was the last trace of her existence in the world.

Was Zhongli unable to unlock the Lock of Mortal Dust?

No, it wasn't that.

He simply didn't want to see the last remnant of her memory disappear as well.

On the surface, he appeared calm, but a storm raged within...

Suddenly, the dance ended, and the music drew to a close.

Everyone looked at Zhongli with anticipation, eager to hear his evaluation.

"???"

Looking closely, they were all surprised—there was a mix of emotions on his face.

Did they not perform well enough?

The crowd fell into thought.

"Zhongli, Zhongli! Princess Xue Ke and the others are waiting for your feedback!"

Paimon gently tapped Zhongli's shoulder, whispering.

Though her voice was soft, it brought Zhongli back to reality.

Feedback? What feedback?

He had been lost in his memories and had completely tuned out what was happening around him.

Fortunately, he had caught the opening of the song. It was a rather sorrowful piece.

Since the song was melancholy, the dance surely matched that mood. Even without watching, he could guess it was a sad performance—unless, of course, the performers were not professional.

But this was Moon Pavilion…

While these young nobles tried their best to express sorrow, their effort was more superficial—the true emotion of sadness was absent from their performance.

After a brief thought, Zhongli had his answer.

"Absolutely perfect!"

He gave them a full score of 100.

Zhongli, without hesitation, continued, "If you all could incorporate genuine emotion into the music and dance, this performance would indeed rank among the finest in the world."

Compared to professional performers, the noble youths fell short. Perhaps they were simply incapable of truly understanding such deep emotions?

The perfect score was, in truth, a reflection of Zhongli's internal thoughts. As for calling it "perfect," that was just a touch of embellishment—after all, they were still young, and maintaining face was important.

He gave them a way to improve while also providing some guidance, a subtle way to make up for his earlier "rudeness."

While they had been performing, he was lost in his own thoughts, which could be seen as a breach of courtesy.

Upon hearing his words, the crowd was both delighted and slightly confused, though they couldn't quite pinpoint what felt off.

Unable to figure it out, they quickly remembered Zhongli's advice and thanked him.

"Thank you for your guidance, Lord Martial God!"

"Lord Martial God, Xue Ke has a humble request, and I hope you will grant it!"

At this moment, Xue Ke approached Zhongli, blinking her large eyes with a sincere expression.

"Oh? What is it, Princess?"

Since it was a "humble request," you should probably not even ask...

In his heart, Du Suji silently grumbled, but refrained from saying anything aloud.

This princess seemed to be a little... pesky.

On the surface, Xue Ke politely made her request, fearing to trouble the Lord, but it seemed that her request left no room for him to refuse.

No wonder she's a princess; her words were flawless, even at such a young age. What will she be like when she grows up?

"Xue Ke wishes to request a performance from the Lord, one devoid of any emotion. In the few years I have lived, I've listened to no fewer than a thousand songs!"

Xue Ke spoke frankly, not at all concerned with how the other performers might feel.

"I've never encountered a piece infused with true emotion. Please, Lord, allow Xue Ke the honor of witnessing such a performance."

Her tone was utterly sincere, and her eyes were filled with a bright, hopeful light.

After saying this, she bowed deeply to Zhongli—not in the formal manner of nobility, but in a way that conveyed the highest respect, second only to a kneeling bow.

This kind of gesture was extraordinary, especially considering Snow Ke was a princess of a vast empire, not some small kingdom or duchy. Even her father, Emperor Xue Ye, had never been accorded such a courtesy from her.

It was as if she was pushing Zhongli into a corner—she gave such a grand gesture, yet Zhongli now had to meet her request for an "emotion-infused" piece.

After pondering for a moment, Zhongli raised his hand, and with an invisible force, helped Xue Ke back to her standing position.

Xue Ke: "???"

He... he didn't even want to physically assist her up?

Xue Ke felt a little disheartened, and the mischievous glint deep in her eyes faded away.

Well, after all, he's much older than she is...

"In this field, I'm merely somewhat knowledgeable," Zhongli said. "But since the princess has extended such an invitation, I shall explore this subject with all of you."

After saying this, Zhongli thought of a figure who once stood alone through the ages—a person whose own signature background music might be particularly fitting for this moment.

A sphere of amber energy formed in his hand, gradually turning into the shape of a bamboo flute.

Since a regular bamboo flute might shatter under the weight of fate, how about a stone flute?

Might as well try.

Everyone: "???"

At this moment, the entire audience was stunned.

Truly, he deserved the title of the number one on the Douluo Continent!

When the first note from the amber-colored "bamboo flute" sounded, everyone was initially unfazed.

But when the second, third... and then the seventh note emerged, a profound sense of sorrow filled the air.

The sadness spread throughout the room.

In just a short time, the flute's music filled the entire space, a boundless feeling of melancholy sweeping over everyone present, as if a young man, despite his despair, had no choice but to press forward alone.

Or perhaps it was the sensation of love unfulfilled, a bond that could never be...

How could these young nobles ever have experienced such emotions? For a moment, they were utterly captivated, their tears flowing freely without them even realizing.

With a "boom," the "bamboo flute" shattered into shimmering fragments and vanished into the air.

At that moment, everyone snapped back to reality, but still felt dazed. Was this what it meant to truly infuse emotions into music?

What a terrifying feeling.

Wait... why did the flute break before the song ended?