Chapter 47: Lingering Melody

Shen Sisi endured the wrenching pain, forcing herself to finish the dance after just ten turns. Her face was flushed, her eyes brimming with tears. Clenching her legs together, she bowed with a trembling body, her voice quivering, “Wishing Her Majesty the Empress Dowager health and longevity.”

The Empress Dowager covered her nose in distaste. “Enough, be off with you.”

At a signal from the Empress, a palace maid trotted over and said, “Miss Shen, the lavatory is this way.”

At these words, laughter rippled quietly through the crowd.

It was utterly humiliating.

Shen Sisi nearly fled in disgrace. The palace maid reminded her, “Miss Shen, your constitution is delicate. Her Majesty the Empress is considerate and will not pursue your offense for disturbing the celebration. You should return to your estate and rest. Please be more mindful of your conduct in the future.”

This was a clear dismissal.

Both the Empress Dowager and the Empress had grown weary of her.

How would the Empress Dowager view her now? What would the Third Prince think? No, perhaps everyone present, though none spoke openly, must have been laughing uproariously in their hearts.

A noble lady, and on such an important occasion, no less, had suffered a bout of diarrhea before the court!

Though Shen Sisi had tried her utmost to hold it in, a faint stain had appeared on her undergarments. Her face burned with shame. Fortunately, all young ladies brought a spare gown to such banquets, but the palace was vast, and by the time her maid fetched her a change of clothes, the birthday celebration would be long over.

Naturally, she had no face left to return, and the Empress would not permit it either. She could only slink away to her manor, alone and humiliated.

She struggled to recall—today, she had only eaten some pastries in the garden, but she dared not mention it. Was she to accuse the Empress of serving tainted food? She lacked the courage. Besides, why had no one else suffered the same fate?

Then she remembered—Shen Qingyun! It was Shen Qingyun who had handed her the pastry!

It must have been she who poisoned it!

Shen Qingyun was taking revenge, making her a laughingstock before everyone.

Her suspicions were not unfounded.

Shen Sisi had planned to use something external, but Shen Qingyun had opted for something ingested. As if to say, “If you want me to lose face in public, I’ll make it so you cannot even face people.”

Thankfully, the air in Yaohua Hall was well-ventilated; as people left, the unpleasant odor dispersed as well. Palace maids carried scented lamps and poured wine for the guests, and the atmosphere slowly regained its composure.

Yet the Empress Dowager’s expression remained sour, and even the Emperor looked displeased.

A splendid birthday banquet, ruined by such a scandal, and there was no way to address it openly.

Princess Jing’an would not let such an opportunity slip by. She spoke softly, “I wonder, what performance will Second Miss Shen present?”

Everyone turned their attention to Shen Qingyun, eager to see her next act. If she performed well, all would be well; should she falter, with both young ladies from the Duke Shen’s household disgraced in succession, they would become the laughingstock of the capital.

Madam Han cast Shen Qingyun a nervous glance, wanting to say something, but with so many eyes watching, it was unwise to offer comfort.

Shen Qingyun bowed gracefully to the Empress Dowager, unhurried and composed. “Your Majesty, I have prepared a piece on the zither to honor Your Majesty’s birthday.”

No one expected such a beautiful young woman to stand up—her attire was splendid and festive, yet her voice was cool and succinct. This alone soothed much of the Empress Dowager’s displeasure.

A eunuch went to fetch Shen Qingyun’s zither.

She seated herself elegantly, slender jade fingers raising to reveal delicate, fair wrists. Her hand glided across the instrument as she gathered her thoughts.

The audience watched with curiosity—this sudden appearance of a stunning maiden, and whether her music would be as enchanting as her visage.

But then, Shen Qingyun withdrew her hand. “Reporting to Your Majesty the Empress Dowager and Your Majesty the Empress, my zither has been tampered with. The strings have been cut and cannot be played.”

Ever cautious to prevent Shen Sisi from sabotaging her, Shen Qingyun had checked before playing and discovered faint notches on the strings—subtle enough to escape notice but sure to snap mid-performance if she played.

More importantly, if she injured her fingers and bled during the Empress Dowager’s banquet, she would risk incurring royal wrath and might not leave the palace unscathed.

A flash of resentment crossed Princess Jing’an’s eyes. Little Tao trembled beside her.

The Empress frowned. “How could such a thing have happened?”

A palace maid inspected the instrument and indeed found the cut marks, inwardly admiring Miss Shen’s keen perception; a moment’s inattention and one would not have noticed at all.

“This prince obtained a new zither called ‘Lingering Echoes’ today. Let Miss Shen play it,” said Prince Li, who had been studiously ignored until now. His voice, cold and resonant, sent a ripple through the crowd.

Princess Jing’an stared at Prince Li in disbelief, only to be cowed by the chilling menace in his gaze.

The Emperor glanced at Prince Li, his eyes full of astonishment, amusement, and curiosity. “Do as Prince Li commands.”

With the Emperor’s decree, the attendants rushed to comply.

The Empress promptly added, “Second Miss Shen, please wait a moment. As for your zither, I will have it thoroughly investigated.”

Shen Qingyun thanked the Empress and sat quietly on the stage, calmly enduring the scrutiny from all sides.

Young ladies and gentlemen alike observed her beauty and attire, unable to help but exclaim that even the lotus paled before such a visage, and that the very air seemed fragrant about her.

Some noted Prince Li’s unprecedented intervention; it was the first time he had ever stepped forward to aid a woman.

Those who understood music eagerly awaited a glimpse of “Lingering Echoes,” a zither whose tones were said to linger in the air for three days. Some regretted that Shen Qingyun, raised in the countryside, might not do justice to such a fine instrument.

Everyone’s thoughts swirled, and attention was at its peak.

Yet solely on Shen Qingyun’s poised demeanor, she won much goodwill.

After a short while, two eunuchs carried in “Lingering Echoes.” Its appearance was unremarkable, but as Shen Qingyun’s hands brushed lightly over the body, she seemed to sense its depth and resonance. She smiled faintly, her eyes sparkling, lashes fluttering gently. With a graceful turn of her fingers, music began to flow.

She played a famous piece—one she had painstakingly learned in her past life for Jiang Lin.

But Jiang Lin had only said, “Your heart is narrow and troubled; your music is harsh to the ear. If you possessed even half of Sisi’s disposition, you would not be such a failure.”

She had always been denied, belittled, unable to see her own worth.

Life must eventually reach its end; a song must play to its last note. In her previous existence, she had lived stifled and frustrated. Now, reborn, she felt as if the shackles had finally fallen away.

Even if the world turned against her, she wished only to remain true to herself.

The zither’s sound was ethereal, sometimes plaintive, sometimes like a mountain stream, winding and lingering, gentle yet imbued with strength. The melody seemed to possess a strange power, drawing listeners into their own memories—of unspoken grievances and hidden sorrows, of the joy and anticipation that followed hardship and endurance…

When the final note faded, the lingering echoes circled the hall, reverberating in silence, spiraling outward, and slowly settling into the distance. Not a single person spoke; only the music’s aftertone remained, gently fading away.