A City Swept by Wind and Snow GL - Chapter 8

◎“She was counterattacked by her own music.”◎

Slow.

Xue Qianxun’s music began with the slow form. At first, it sounded bland, almost tasteless. But on closer listening, one could feel the strength and control in her fingers—deliberate, steady, and profound, like a breeze stirring through calm air. The mind gradually relaxed, worries vanished, and even the noisy hall seemed to quiet down, leaving only the sound of the zither and soft, measured breathing. Everyone felt hypnotized into calm. He Qishu forgot to shake the folding fan in his hand, unable to tear his gaze away from Xue Qianxun. Yet, even as his heart was soothed, a pressing question arose: What was the name of this unfamiliar piece?

Serene.

At some point, the slow form gently transitioned into serenity. Clear and flowing, soft and sweet, like spring wind on the skin, it drifted into the ears with delicate charm. He Qishu felt transported back to his tender youth—the swaying figure under the kapok trees, a half-hidden face behind a snow-white fan. These were his longings, his dreams, things he once could not obtain yet now seemed within reach. He felt complete, content; there was nothing to compete for, nothing to pursue. He wished to melt into the serene melody under Xue Qianxun’s fingers, willingly drifting to sleep.

Sudden.

People seemed to float in the clouds, satisfied, looking up with nothing left to grasp—the present was perfect. Suddenly, the music surged violently into the “sudden” form: wind and rain raged, battle cries and murderous intent burst forth from Xue Qianxun’s fingers at a speed impossible to dodge. Listeners, startled from their dreamlike state, felt as if they had plummeted from the clouds. He Qishu felt his heart hollowed, realizing that all beauty was illusion, that the unattainable remained so, and even the last warmth in his body was stolen. Life became torment, existence a sin, and despair filled him entirely. Oppressed and suffocated, he no longer desired anything but death. His hands involuntarily reached for the red gem on the handle of his folding fan…

A thump, and bl00d splattered everywhere, covering He Qishu.

Naturally, someone else had even greater intent to die—the kind whose inner demons and fragile mind could not withstand it.

A harsh, discordant sound rang out. A pair of hands pressed down on Xue Qianxun’s zither strings.

“You mad girl, are you trying to get yourself killed?!”

Sweat trickling from her brow, Xue Qianxun snapped out of her dream and saw Jin Se, her cheeks pink with concern.

“How did you come down here?”

Panting, Jin Se demanded, “Where did you learn such a murderous tune?!”

“I’m skilled, aren’t I… hehe.” Xue Qianxun grinned mischievously, like a child pleased with a prank, and her hands darted toward the strings again.

“You’ll kill me with anger!” Jin Se muttered, secretly striking Xue Qianxun with a technique. Immediately, Xue Qianxun felt weak and powerless all over. She glared at Jin Se, unwilling to submit, but soon fell unconscious.

The music abruptly stopped. Coupled with the pervasive scent of bl00d, the audience below awoke from a daze, bewildered.

Zhao Si wiped foam from his lips, confused: “What… happened?”

The swordsman beside him said, “Someone attempted suicide.”

“What? Why would anyone commit suicide out of the blue?”

Long Taojia, deputy head of the Zhenyuan Escort Agency, wiped sweat from his forehead, finally recovering composure, and asked, “Was there a sudden ambush just now?”

Everyone was still slightly dazed; though his words were strange, none laughed.

Several dozen guards rushed in, surrounding He Qishu to clean the bl00d off his robe. Jin Se arranged for the body of the man who had died beside He Qishu to be carried away. Ru Hua, startled by the sudden turn of events, paled. However, Xue Qianxun’s music had caused her no harm. Jin Se, relieved at Ru Hua’s natural innocence—straightforward and thoughtless but free from corruption—hurried her back to her room.

Zhao Si, still obsessed with the musical contest, called out, “Tell me, which girl won? Surely Xue Qianxun is the superior player, right?”

Unexpectedly, the Marquis of Zhuang slammed the table, his voice sharp: “Absurd! Chaotic! Awful!”

Long Taojia, overjoyed, said mockingly, “Of course, Ru Hua’s Flowery Moonlight is perfect! The music matches her persona!” He felt his pride validated.

In truth, including He Qishu, everyone was slightly mentally overstimulated and unaware. Zhao Si, especially, was excited; reason told him not to provoke the Marquis of Zhuang, so he vented his anger on Long Taojia, yelling, “You idiot! If you dare act again, I’ll hire ‘Three Blades’ to kill you!”

The name Three Blades suddenly flashed in Zhao Si’s mind. It was not surprising; after all, the reappearance of Three Blades had caused a stir in the imperial capital. Yet he seemed to forget that this name should be avoided before the Marquis of Zhuang.

Long Taojia, fearless and reckless, shouted back: “Three Blades? Hah! One after another—enough already! If the Marquis can’t deal with him, I’ll handle him myself!”

Before he could finish, a black shadow darted across the hall. A “meow” sounded as a black cat leaped over Long Taojia’s head, landing before Zhao Si and dropping a sheet of ink-stained paper.

At the top, in bold letters, was written: Contract.

Zhao Si exhaled in relief—the cat’s delivery was not a death prophecy. He grabbed a chopstick, dipped it in the still-wet bl00d on the floor, and wrote on the paper the killing deadline: “Immediately.” He also added the reward: fifty taels.

Three Blades was renowned as the world’s top assassin, with contracts rarely under 500 taels. Yet this time, he appeared willing to accept this assignment. Before Long Taojia could even draw his sword, he was cut into four pieces—perfectly three strikes.

But one wave of chaos had not yet passed before another arrived.

The hall was filled with the scent of bl00d once more, eliciting terror-stricken screams. On Long Taojia’s shredded body flew a magnificent, multicolored brocade robe, vanishing instantly. Among dozens of onlookers, not a single person glimpsed his face.

He Qishu finally regained full awareness, sorted his disordered thoughts, and leapt to the Music Pavilion. Jin Se steadied the unconscious Xue Qianxun, watching him calmly. He Qishu’s knuckles whitened around the folding fan as he asked in a firm voice, “How is she?”

“She was counterattacked by her own music,” Jin Se replied.

He Qishu gave a low grunt. Indeed, Jin Se had insight, detecting the abnormality in Xue Qianxun’s music before anyone else. Coldly, he said: “You always act with discretion. I hope you won’t disappoint me this time.”

Jin Se replied: “I shall faithfully execute the orders of the Marquis.”

“The wrong kind of faithful execution. When did she master such demonic music? And you didn’t inform me? Or did you know and kept silent?”

“It is my fault, my lord. Truly, I did not know,” Jin Se admitted, pausing briefly before smiling with confidence: “However, I have already discovered traces of the matter you value most.”

“Oh? Clues already?” He Qishu, intrigued, turned his attention.

Jin Se glanced at the chaotic crowd: “I shall explain everything in detail later.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow night at midnight, my lord, please bring the Vermilion Bird to the Yingxue Pavilion. Another person will also arrive—be warned, they may be dangerous,” Jin Se emphasized.

He Qishu had no time to inquire further. He nodded and signaled his attendants to prepare the carriage back to the mansion.

Inside the Yingxue Pavilion,

Xue Qianxun slowly awakened. Jin Se sat quietly by the window, early sunlight filtering through the blinds, falling on her melancholic face.

“You ruined my fun,” Xue Qianxun murmured.

Jin Se, slightly irritated, said nothing, merely smiling coldly.

“Why are you smiling? Saving He Qishu is such a big deal?”

Jin Se suddenly stood: “Do you feel that He Qishu has been ignoring you lately and you wanted to regain his attention?”

“Hah, my identity—he’ll find out eventually. He’s suspicious and all-seeing; he’ll inevitably discover it.”

Jin Se shook her head helplessly: “I’ve always been helping you avoid suspicion.”

“I don’t like merely defending and hiding. You… you are different from that person…” Xue Qianxun whispered, thinking of an old acquaintance.

“That person? Hmph, the Su Sha Qianxun? If she excels in offense, she’s similar to that Western Wind High Priest who plays with statues… seems formidable…”

“What do you mean ‘seems’?” Xue Qianxun detected Jin Se’s disapproval and frowned.

Jin Se put down the silver fox in her arms: “If one day I fight either of them, who would you wish to win?”

Xue Qianxun quickly replied: “Why would you fight them?”

“Who knows? Then why would you oppose He Qishu?”

“I don’t question your secrets, and you shouldn’t question mine,” Xue Qianxun replied.

Jin Se smiled: “Fine. I won’t ask. But tell me, where did you learn that piece of music?”

Xue Qianxun: “No one taught me; I had to figure it out myself. I call it Thirteen Forms.”

“Ha, the Thirteen Forms of the zither—under your fingers, it becomes a murderous tune,” Jin Se said. “Do you really think you can kill him? With that half-baked puppet technique? No, that isn’t even puppet technique. At this rate, you’d die from the backlash before harming He Qishu!”

Xue Qianxun smirked: “I am confident, because I know He Qishu has heavy inner demons.”

Jin Se said: “If I told you Western Wind is secretly protecting the Marquis, would you still be so confident?”

“She’s there?” Xue Qianxun was startled. “Is she healed?”

“Even half-dead, a demon is still a demon. As long as Western Wind can move a finger, she’s still dangerous.”

“She’s not a monster,” Xue Qianxun immediately countered.

Jin Se sighed and coughed softly: “So jealous…”

Xue Qianxun looked at her.

Jin Se: “Even little wolves can become obedient puppies sometimes. You know I and Western Wind are both under the Marquis, so why treat us differently?”

Xue Qianxun: “I just said she isn’t a monster. If she dares obstruct me from killing He Qishu like you, I wouldn’t spare her either.”

Jin Se smiled: “Battles aren’t won by boasting. Play your music; I’ll handle the killing. Oh, and regarding Three Blades’ assassination attempt on He Qishu, I found a suitable scapegoat for you.”

“What?” Xue Qianxun asked.

Jin Se teased: “Tonight, all mysteries will be solved. Though… the more we uncover, the more chaotic it may get…”

Dark ink-gray enveloped the imperial capital. Cold wind and snow danced wildly.

It truly was a perfect night for killing.

Tang Fei, holding a wine gourd in midair, staggered as he mumbled: “Bah!… You dare laugh at me lacking skill! Let me tell you, Three Blades will kill you, but you don’t believe me! How about it—dead yet? I strike once, bl00d flows, strike twice, limbs break, strike thrice… thrice, I take your life!” Excited, he began singing oddly: “I, the great one, take your money to avert disasters, care for killing but not burial… next, next… hic… it’s… that one…”

He reached a tavern, but it was closed. Disappointed, he spat at the door, unable to drink, and instinctively moved toward lights ahead. Though unsteady, he moved swiftly, and soon the lights blazed brilliantly. Behind red doors, wine flowed, food smelled rich, song and dance filled the air, as if spring were in full bloom, warm whispers mingling with music, drifting through the wind and snow.

“Ah, this is perfect!” Tang Fei smiled, pointing at the dark green sign above, reading: “Chun Jiang Yuan! A fine place!” Women filled the Spring River Courtyard, leaving a deep impression on him.

Suddenly, in the misty night, a flash of red clothing passed swiftly behind Tang Fei, stirring a faint fragrant wind. To ordinary eyes, such a brief, subtle movement is nearly impossible to notice. But Tang Fei was no ordinary man. Though slightly drunk, his instincts were sharp; he sniffed the air, spun following the wind, and grabbed the bright red sleeve, laughing: “Who are you? Why move faster than me?”

The red-clad figure froze in the wind and snow.

“Turn around and let me see. Woman—excused, man—done for!” Tang Fei reached for the hood of the red figure.

The red-clad person exclaimed: “Ah!”

Tang Fei discerned the soft, clear voice and squinted through his haze: “A woman.” Gently, he relaxed his grasp.

Seeing Tang Fei loosen, the woman seized the chance. She immediately drew a green, thick, silver spike, feigning a strike at Tang Fei’s face.

Tang Fei’s drunkenness vanished. He arched backward, dodging, yet smiled: “Kind lady, why spare me?” He pointed with one hand, rebounding and springing forward, catching her wrist with precision.

Their eyes met, so close.

Tang Fei examined her face: “Masked.” He nodded thoughtfully: “Yes, masked women… are usually beautiful.”

The woman, noticing his slackened grip, did not relax even an instant, and sprang away. Tang Fei regained focus, sprinting after her.