Chapter Ninety-Five: A Startling Swan’s Melody Reverberates Above Heaven and Earth

Although this was not Gongsun the Great Lady’s first visit to Luoyang—indeed, many of the guests present tonight had witnessed her dazzling sword dance years ago, some even three years or more prior—her artistry had not dimmed in the slightest. Among them, Zhang Xu, who had seen her perform three consecutive times in Yexian, Henan, was struck by such inspiration that his cursive calligraphy reached new heights. Even he, faced with today’s unceasingly brilliant sword dances performed by Gongsun and her disciples, found himself unconsciously tracing his thumb over the dust on the ground so many times that his finger was darkened and even scraped, yet he noticed nothing.

One piece, “Song of the Frontier”; another, “Ballad of Mulan”; a third, “Neighbor’s Tune”; and finally, “Sword Dance of the Western River”—four dazzling performances passed, and when Gongsun, standing poised and smiling, announced the final dance, a murmur of surprise rippled through the crowd. As the day’s light crept toward its zenith, people realized time had slipped away unnoticed; and with Gongsun’s quiet departure, the once-silent gathering erupted anew in whispered speculation. Even Zhang Xu, who had been utterly absorbed, released a long breath and glanced sideways, only to find the ground before Wu Daozi faintly traced with the outlines of figures.

“You... what are you doing?”

“These murals at Anguo Temple—I’ve been putting them off, unable to find inspiration until today. Watching this sword dance, I finally have it. Now I await Gongsun’s last performance.” Wu Daozi, full of excitement, clapped his hands, paying no mind to Zhang Xu’s odd look at his empty wine gourd. Suddenly, Wu swept his gaze around and noticed only Wang Jin and Du Thirteen Lady behind him; Wang Wei and Du Shiyi were nowhere to be seen. He pondered aloud, “Strange, where have those two gone?”

Zhang Xu lazily glanced over his shoulder, resting his chin in thought, then laughed, “Why worry about them? If they hadn’t vacated these prime seats, we wouldn’t have enjoyed the show so thoroughly! Let’s wager—what form will the last piece take? Might it abandon drum, cymbal, flute, and pipa altogether—a silent dance?”

But just as he spoke, a voice behind him objected, “Impossible. If it were a silent dance, my brother and Lord Du would have returned by now.”

Zhang Xu and Wu Daozi turned to look; though they knew these two were famed in Luoyang, Wang Jin, young and spirited, continued undaunted, “After they left, my brother had someone fetch our family’s zitan pipa—clearly for another purpose. So I am certain: the last piece will not be a silent dance!”

How could Wang Wei and Du Shiyi possibly miss the chance to witness the final performance?

Du Thirteen Lady saw Zhang Xu’s eyes narrow, a sharp gleam within, while Wu Daozi stroked his chin thoughtfully. Chewing over Wang Jin’s words, she had to admit that with Du Shiyi and Wang Wei’s absence, it was likely the pipa had been taken backstage. She drew a quiet breath and spoke softly, “Gentlemen, and Lord Wang, let’s not quarrel. In just moments, Gongsun’s last performance will begin... Lord Wang, that music just now... the music just now...”

“The previous piece was surely played by my brother on the zitan pipa.” Wang Jin straightened confidently, his face brooking no doubt. “My brother has studied pipa since childhood, and we siblings often listened. That particular instrument has a distinct tone from ordinary pipas, so I can guarantee it was him! My hearing is only slightly less keen than his. For the first piece, ‘Song of the Frontier,’ someone else took over at the end. The second, ‘Ballad of Mulan,’ was likely Lord Du; the third, ‘Neighbor’s Tune,’ my brother; the fourth, ‘Sword Dance of the Western River,’ Lord Du again. Now it’s the fifth piece, and soon all will be clear!”

Zhang Xu and Wu Daozi exchanged a glance. Though neither was an expert in music, they could not help but be intrigued by the earnest young lord. Du Thirteen Lady, even less restrained by propriety, moved closer and inquired obliquely about Wang Wei’s pipa skills. When she learned he had studied since age five—over a decade now—her face showed deep admiration. Considering her own brother had practiced only two years, worry crept across her features.

Wang Jin noticed Du Thirteen Lady lapse into a daze and called out in concern, “Lady Du? Why does your complexion look unwell?”

“Mm, it’s nothing, thank you, Lord Wang.” Du Thirteen Lady forced a smile, hesitated, then murmured, “But my brother... he has studied pipa for barely two years.”

Though softly spoken, Wang Jin was stunned, and Zhang Xu and Wu Daozi, waiting for the grand finale, heard her clearly. Wu Daozi laughed, “Ah, the world is truly full of wonders—there are those like Master Zhang, obsessed with books and wild cursive, and me, failing at calligraphy only to turn to painting, and now someone who, in less than two years, plays the pipa so well. Truly, heroes are born everywhere!”

“Yes, heroes are everywhere!” Zhang Xu, entirely unashamed, accepted the praise, then sprawled out, eyes gleaming mischievously. “Let’s see if this last piece brings me further inspiration!”

While guests outside waited impatiently for the grand finale, those behind the curtain struggled with the last sword dance. Apart from Wang Wei’s timely rescue of the first “Song Beyond the Frontier,” Du Shiyi played two of the subsequent three, Wang Wei only one—barely covering the gaps. Du Shiyi thus bore the heavier burden, but the most crucial was the final piece.

This closing performance, “Chu and Han,” was a composition Gongsun had received from a blind old musician in Bianzhou, then refined over a year with another musician suddenly stricken by illness. Now, with the key performer absent, the remaining musician struggled to play it, and even Wang Wei, accomplished in music and pipa, hesitated before the challenging passages.

Du Shiyi stared at the difficult section, prompting Wang Wei to call, “Nineteen Lord Du?”

Du Shiyi snapped out of his trance. Seeing Gongsun’s grave expression and Wang Wei’s hesitation, he coughed lightly, “If you don’t mind, might I take this section?”

Wang Wei was greatly surprised, as was Gongsun. But when Du Shiyi took the ebony pipa and plucked a few notes, both their eyes brightened. With no time to question the reasons, Wang Wei decisively handed over the music and focused on studying the score, while Gongsun smiled and began sorting her swords. Only Yue Fifth Lady, her own part finished and bored, sidled up to Du Shiyi, watching his fingers work over the score with interest.

Time slipped by, and as the sounds of impatient urging grew outside, Gongsun selected the longest sword from her case, one without a tassel, allowed herself to be properly attired, and then turned to Wang Wei and Du Shiyi, asking, “Are you both ready?”

Wang Wei exhaled deeply and replied, “I believe I can manage.”

Du Shiyi confirmed the difficult passages matched his memory, forced himself to note the changes, and answered, “I am ready as well!”

The guests in every corner of the pavilion were growing restless. In the southeast, at an unremarkable seat, an elderly man lounged, paying no attention to a kneeling, wine-stained official before him, tapping his fingers lightly on the table. After a while, he spoke, “I sent you to invite Zhang the Elder as a pretext. He’s wild and untamable, else he’d be more than a minor official. Yet you failed to even see your host and returned in shame—are you working or courting disaster?”

“Master...”

“No need!” The old man waved off any explanation. He recalled the emperor’s return to the capital, his own recent illness, and the order to remain in his private residence in Dongdu’s Cihui Ward for recuperation. Though he did not feel so frail, he had to obey. Just last year, Zhang Shuo had been transferred from the post of Chief Historian in Jingzhou to Right General of the Imperial Guards and Inspector of Youzhou, clearly on the rise.

The man he had worked so hard to suppress was about to break free, while he himself was aged and powerless. How could he not worry? Years ago, when he expelled Zhang Shuo, he had exploited Prince Qi, so the noble Princesses Yuzhen and Jinxian had always regarded him coldly. Knowing the emperor was reconsidering his ministers, he had heard Jinxian would attend in disguise to watch Gongsun’s sword dance, so he had gone out incognito, intending to use Zhang Xu as an excuse for a chance encounter and conversation, only to have his plans ruined by the foolish man before him.

Unable to even arrange a chance meeting—why did he use such a person?

Yao Chong, now too weary to instruct further, was about to dismiss his servant when, above the clamor outside, he heard the pipa’s melodious notes. Though he was not here solely for Gongsun’s sword dance—he remembered when Princess Taiping was in power, and he, forced to serve as governor of Shenzhou, had watched Gongsun perform her sword dance, which then was far less impressive than now. He set aside his anxious thoughts and fixed his gaze on the stage. Indeed, though there were no drums, cymbals, flutes, or other accompaniment, the pipa’s stirring, clear sound instantly calmed the crowd.

In the next moment, someone softly exclaimed, “It’s starting!”