Chapter 120: Plighting Troths

Qingyue Nunnery is located southwest of Kaifeng Prefecture, roughly ten miles from the city. It is a modest place, consisting of one small main hall and seven or eight meditation rooms, all nestled within a lush bamboo grove that encloses it in vibrant green. To the right of the nunnery, a small, clear stream flows quietly and gently.

Along the bank of the stream sit a few stone stools and a table, upon which rests a book, a guqin, some musical scores, and an incense burner. Seated before the zither is a young man and woman, both dressed in white. Their features are as exquisite as a painting, making them look like a pair of celestial lovers untouched by the dust of the mortal world. Though small, the nunnery is exceptionally elegant, creating a sanctuary that feels like a fairyland on earth, refreshing to both body and mind.

"Before playing the zither, one must bathe, change clothes, and cleanse one's hands. One must also prepare the zither table, complete with the 'three essentials of the incense ritual'—the incense burner, the chopstick vase, and the incense box. Furthermore, there are the Ten Virtues, the Ten Precepts, the Twelve Desires, the Seven Requirements, and the Five Taboos of playing..." Li Qingzhao said, sitting before the table with a faint blush on her face.

Li Sanjian nearly burst into laughter upon hearing this. Since his horsemanship was poor and he had failed to control the horse, they had both tumbled into the stream, soaking their clothes. Unable to return to the city, they had sought out this nunnery to bathe and change. Thus, the preparations were already made; there was no need to bathe again.

During the Tang and Song dynasties, Buddhism flourished, and temples and nunneries were ubiquitous. Most provided clean, refined rooms for travelers to stay or pray for guidance. It was common for monasteries to accommodate female guests and nunneries to host male travelers overnight. Over time, those near major thoroughfares functioned much like inns. Li Sanjian only needed to pay a small sum to rest here, and staying the night would be no problem at all. The nunnery was well-equipped with everything necessary, including a guqin.

"Are you going to learn or not? If not, forget it," Li Qingzhao said, feigning annoyance at Li Sanjian’s playful expression.

"Learn? Of course I will. Please, continue," Li Sanjian replied,收敛 his smile and sitting upright.

Of the four arts—zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting—the zither holds the primary place. Playing it is said to cultivate temperament, temper the will, harmonize the body, and sharpen the intellect. When Li Qingzhao mentioned it, Li Sanjian readily agreed. Although he had never played the guqin, he was fond of similar instruments and possessed some musical skill, so he was quite interested. *Surely, there must be common principles,* he thought to himself.

"Hmph, never mind. I will play a piece, and you can figure it out for yourself." Li Qingzhao realized that no matter how she taught him, he could not master it in such a short time, so she decided to let him grasp what he could from her performance.

Li Sanjian smiled slightly and said, "Please, Miss."

Li Qingzhao cast him a sidelong glance, placed her hands on the zither, closed her eyes, and calmed her mind. Moments later, a beautiful melody flowed from her fingertips. The sound was exquisite—like the tinkling of a spring, soothing to the heart, yet tinged with the faint, melancholy grace of an orchid in a deep valley. If Lin Jinzhi’s playing at Fengle Tower had carried a trace of the vulgarity of the pleasure quarters, Li Qingzhao’s music was ethereal, refined, and noble, like the sound of heaven itself.

As she sat there, her brows like painted ink and her eyes clear as autumn water, her waterfall-like black hair draped over her shoulder. The sunlight filtering through the bamboo cast a glow upon her, making her appear even more picturesque and graceful. Li Sanjian listened to the melody and watched the jade-like beauty, feeling utterly mesmerized.

It was not that Li Sanjian did not love Li Qingzhao; he loved her deeply, perhaps even to the point of feeling unworthy. Having been hurt by women in his past life, he had built a subconscious guard against them, especially those as brilliant as her, keeping his distance to avoid further pain. He was not even aware of this avoidance.

Li Qingzhao was the daughter of an official family, beautiful and exceptionally talented. In contrast, Li Sanjian felt humble and inferior, intentionally or unintentionally dodging her company for fear of being unable to extricate himself. He knew better than anyone that in this world, mutual affection between a man and a woman did not guarantee a life together. The outcome was dictated by factors like social status and the dictates of one's parents—things he had little control over. The humiliation his mother had suffered at the Cai residence was a painful lesson: how could a humble house like his climb to reach a prominent one? Why invite such misfortune and humiliation upon himself?

Yet, feeling Li Qingzhao’s innocent affection, how could he bear to reject her or辜负 her deep sincerity? He was torn by conflicting thoughts, caught in a dilemma.

Just as Li Sanjian was lost in these troubled musings, Li Qingzhao finished her piece. The music faded, and she looked at the preoccupied Li Sanjian, gently nudging him. "Hey, what are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," Li Sanjian started, quickly recovering. "Your music is truly celestial. I was so enthralled that I lost my composure. Please forgive my rudeness."

"Hee hee." Li Qingzhao felt a surge of pride. Covering her mouth with her sleeve, she smiled and asked, "And what about you?"

"What about me?" Li Sanjian asked, confused.

"Did you realize anything? Do you know how to play now?" she asked.

"I am dull-witted," Li Sanjian laughed, "but I would like to try."

"You want to try?" Li Qingzhao was surprised. "You don't know how to play, yet you want to try after hearing it just once?" She added dismissively, "Don't disgrace the very name of the instrument." She feared he might break the strings or damage the precious zither—a tragedy of "boiling a crane to cook it, and burning a lute for fuel."

"Haha!" Li Sanjian squeezed toward her. Li Qingzhao shifted away, but he reached out to the side of the zither, pressing the strings with his other hand to adjust the tuning. "Everything in the world has commonalities. Though I am not skilled, I am willing to try."

After plucking the strings a few times, he began to play. Moments later, a soul-stirring melody erupted from the zither. The music was filled with the spirit of war and slaughter. As Li Qingzhao listened, she felt as if a vast plain appeared before her, where two armies clashed. The sounds of battle, the whistling of rain-like arrows, and the clanging of swords and spears resonated through the heavens. It was as if the roof tiles were falling, and as one listened closer, one could hear the beating of war drums, the twang of crossbows, and the cries of men and horses. The listener felt first a surge of courage, then fear, and finally a sorrow that could not be held back.

What kind of man was he? Li Qingzhao was stunned, feeling deeply bewildered. Li Sanjian was clearly a scholar—a down-on-his-luck candidate—yet he played with the intensity of a bloodthirsty warrior or a commander of thousands. She had seen this spirit in his poem, "Yong Yu Le: Thoughts on the Past at Jingkou Beigu Pavilion," but this music made it even clearer. Such presence could only be possessed by one who had long weathered the battlefield. She also sensed in his music a fierce defiance against the injustices of heaven and the corruption of the world.

Li Qingzhao was shaken to her core. Did she not understand their current plight? Was he speaking of their situation? Was he truly so deeply invested in her that he felt such frustration and helplessness?

When the music ended, the lingering echoes remained, and their hearts were long in settling. After a long silence, Li Qingzhao sighed softly, leaning close to him. "Sanlang... what... what are your plans for the future? You... I... what are we to do? What is in your heart?" Her voice grew softer until it was barely audible, and she bowed her head, blushing.

By now, how could Li Sanjian not understand her meaning? To misunderstand would be to act like a fool. Her words were effectively a confession. As he had spent more time with her, he had come to understand her character—clever, proud, and noble. Hearing these words from her, he was deeply moved. To reject her now would make him a truly heartless man.

"Thinking of the lonely sky at dawn, who can fathom a heart devoid of taste? The star of praise grows old, while the years fade in the twilight; I am accustomed to seeing new robes. My eyes are filled with affection as we drift apart. Hearts are not shallow, lightly broken, sealed in a thousand layers behind deep gates. The earth bows to the dragon's change; words remain unspoken, both drifting in the void." Li Sanjian looked at her and softly recited a *Lin Jiang Xian*.

Li Qingzhao trembled, her body softening as she leaned into his arms. She whispered a response: "I bear the weight of parting beyond the Wu and Shu borders, waking to idle feelings in the morning. I fear the rope bridge is brittle; human sentiment enters the sea, the curtains never falling. The ripples on the Blue Bridge shift, yet my poems are too thin to cross the carved railings. Seasons pass in slow adornment, cold and indifferent as fish in a row. Our hearts are cut, though our status is low; gains and losses are but new belts of green and cinnabar."

"Qing'er," Li Sanjian murmured, holding her close.

"Mm."

"If you do not forsake me, I, Li Sanjian, will never forsake you."

"Mm, Sanlang. Say no more; my heart understands."

"Sanlang," Li Qingzhao said, gently stroking his chin, which was covered in a light stubble. "What are your plans for the future?"

"The imperial examinations," Li Sanjian replied. "Only by passing can I be worthy of my Qing'er." *Perhaps only then,* he thought, *will your father, Li Gefei, grant his permission.*

Li Qingzhao felt a surge of joy. She was a woman of great ambition; if her lover truly succeeded in the examinations, she would be delighted, and it would silence much of the gossip.

"Sanlang, I want to hear you play again."

"Mm."

"What is the name of this piece?"

"Ambush from Ten Sides."