The Present - III

Knock. Knock.

Junshi stirred. His sleep broke as a sharp beam of sunlight slipped through the window, stinging his eyes. He groaned, turning away, but the light had already disturbed his rest. A dull ache spread through his stiff body, the warmth of sleep fading too fast.

Then came a voice from outside.

"Junshi, are you awake?"

It was Guard Yuxi.

Junshi blinked a few times, his vision still hazy. "Sister Yuxi?"

He pushed himself up, the blanket slipping off his shoulders. As he moved, a sharp pull spread across his back—his wounds from last night's punishment protesting the sudden motion. He hissed softly but ignored it, stepping toward the door.

When he opened the door, Yuxi stood there, dressed in her usual black uniform. A sword rested at her hip, and her hair was neatly tied back. She was taller than most women, her posture always firm, like she was ready for battle even in the quiet morning.

Junshi yawned. "Why are you calling me so early?"

"Madam said you'll be learning guqin from Rong from now on."

Junshi frowned. "What? What about my guzheng lessons with Senior Sister Yue?"

Yuxi hesitated. "That… I don't know. But you should go to her room soon. The morning lessons are starting."

Junshi sighed. "Alright."

Yuxi's fingers curled into a fist. She hesitated before speaking again. "Junshi, I… I know I have no right to ask this."

Junshi looked at her, waiting.

"But… how are you feeling now?"

Her voice was quiet, almost uncertain. She avoided his gaze, her head slightly lowered as she held one arm with the other. The strictness she usually carried was gone, replaced by guilt.

Junshi blinked. He hadn't expected that.

Yuxi bit her lip, her shoulders tense. She looked as if she wanted to say something more.

"I—"

Junshi cut her off with a small smile. His voice was light, the same as before. "I told you already, Sister Yuxi. And I'll say it again."

He repeated the exact words he had told her last night, after the whipping. "There's nothing to apologize for. I only got what I deserved. I should have practiced better."

Then, without another word, he stepped back inside and closed the door.

Yuxi stood there, frozen.

From inside, Junshi's voice came again. "I'll get ready and meet Sister Rong in an hour."

A pause. Then Yuxi's voice, softer than before. "Okay… I'll let her know."

Her words wavered slightly, reflecting the emotions she was trying to hold back. Then, her footsteps slowly faded down the hallway.

Junshi let out a small breath.

He turned to his dressing table and started undressing. As the loose fabric slipped from his shoulders, he noticed the bandages on his back had come undone. The cloth was barely holding—too loose.

"Did I move too much in my sleep?" he murmured to himself.

Maybe Sister Mei didn't tie them tightly enough… She was probably worried about hurting me.

He gently touched the bandages, adjusting them as best as he could. Then, he picked up his clothes—simple, neither fancy nor too poor. The fabric was slightly worn, but he held it close for a moment.

"How long have I been wearing this?" he wondered. "two years?"

A small smile touched his lips. "I should take better care of it."

This wasn't just any ordinary clothing. It was a gift—his first ever. Given to him by Mei after his first public performance.

Junshi dressed carefully, wincing as the fabric pressed against his wounds. Then, after locking his room, he stepped into the hallway.

The Pavilion was quiet in the early morning. The red lanterns, now dark, swayed gently with the breeze, their once vibrant glow reduced to cold, lifeless silk.

Junshi walked past rooms and corridors, his path leading in a different direction than before.

Midway, he reached a garden in the center of the Pavilion. A small building stood in the middle, surrounded by lush greenery. Dew clung to the leaves, sparkling in the morning sun. A soft wind rustled through the bamboo trees, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers.

Junshi paused for a moment, taking it in.

Then, he continued toward Rong's room.

Outside the door, he could already hear the sound of the guqin.

He was late.

After a brief hesitation, he called out, "Senior Sister."

A calm voice responded. "Come in."

Junshi slide opened the door.

Inside, a few performers were already seated, their guqins in front of them. At the very back, Rong sat elegantly. Her deep red ruqun draped perfectly around her, embroidered with golden patterns. She held her guqin with practiced grace, her fingers moving smoothly over the strings. Her dark hair was styled with care, a jade ornament resting among the strands. Her lips curved into a smile—but there was something sharp beneath it.

The other performers sat a little farther away, their gazes lowering slightly when Junshi entered.

"Junshi, sit near me," Rong said, her voice light and inviting.

She patted the pillow beside her. Unlike the others, who sat at a respectful distance, Junshi sat close—clearly marking his status as a main performer.

He obeyed, sitting beside her.

The atmosphere was strict, yet refined.

Rong smiled. "Junshi, why were you late?"

She leaned slightly toward him, her voice still smooth.

Junshi lowered his head slightly. "I apologize, Senior Sister. I… overslept."

Some of the other performers exchanged glances. Their expressions stiffened, as if Junshi had said something wrong.

Rong's smile didn't fade, but something about it changed. The warmth in it felt… cold.

"Oh? Is that so?"

She leaned back into her seat, her fingers casually resting on her guqin.

Junshi swallowed.

"Alright then, let's start."

Rong didn't give any instructions, nor did she offer any guidance. She simply began playing, her fingers gliding effortlessly over the strings. The sound was clear, elegant—yet deliberately difficult.

The other performers followed, their faces tense. It was evident that Rong was playing much harder than usual.

Junshi tried to keep up, but he had only learned the basics of guqin. Unlike guzheng, which Madam had told him to focus on, he had only practiced guqin for a few months before switching to self-study.

Rong's fingers moved faster. The notes became harsher, more demanding.

The others barely held on, their brows furrowed in concentration.

Junshi was struggling the most. His hands trembled, sweat gathering at his brow.

Then—his fingers slipped.

The wrong note rang out sharply.

Everything stopped.

Rong turned to him, still smiling. But her gaze was sharp.

"Junshi?"

His fingers twitched slightly. "I… I apologize, Senior Sister."

Rong narrowed her eyes, her smile deepening into something… unsettling.

"Oh? But I heard you learned from Yue very quickly. Why is it that you're so slow with me?"

Her tone was light, but the jealousy underneath was clear.

Junshi lowered his head, not knowing how to answer.

"Come closer," Rong said, patting the space right beside her.

Junshi hesitated. "Senior Sister, please allow me one more chance... I won't make a mistake again."

Rong's smile thinned. "Junshi."

It wasn't a request.

Slowly, he obeyed, dragging his guqin and pillow next to her.

Rong leaned close, pressing her chest against his back. Her hand covered his, guiding his fingers over the strings.

"Let's play together."

At first, her touch was light. But the more they played, the harder her grip became.

Junshi winced.

Then, without warning, she pressed his fingers down harshly. The sharp edge of the strings cut into his skin. Blood welled up.

Junshi flinched, trying to pull away.

Rong didn't let go.

Her breath brushed against his ear. "Junshi, don't disappoint me. I don't want anyone saying that I lack talent compared to that bitch Yue."

Junshi trembled.

Rong's smile deepened. She didn't move away. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, watching him—studying him.

"I've heard you're quite the fast learner, Junshi," she murmured, her breath warm against his ear. "Yue must have taught you well."

Her fingers, still entwined with his, guided his hand back to the strings. Slowly, she pressed down. Hard. The sting of the fresh cuts flared again, the sharp edges digging into his wounds.

"Tell me, did she hold your hands like this when she taught you?"

The sound of the guqin rang out softly as she played a familiar melody—one Junshi knew well. Yue's teaching.

"Or maybe she was different… kinder?" Her grip tightened. "Stricter?"

Junshi said nothing. His body was stiff, the pain in his fingers growing unbearable.

Rong finally let go. She sighed, straightening her posture, her expression shifting back to its usual elegance. With a delicate motion, she reached for a silk cloth resting on her lap and, without a single glance at him, wiped the blood from her own fingers.

"It doesn't matter." She waved a hand dismissively. "You'll learn from me now."

She turned back to her guqin, plucking a few effortless notes, then gave a satisfied nod.

"Class is over. Let's meet again tomorrow."

Her tone was light, but when her gaze shifted toward one of the other performers, her voice sharper. "You stay."

Junshi hesitated. His fingers ached, and a strange unease settled in his chest. But he didn't look back.

As he stepped out into the hallway, the pain in his fingers pulsed with each movement. He flexed them slightly—red stains had already formed along his palm, the deep cuts refusing to stop bleeding. The air felt heavier now, suffocating even under the soft afternoon light.

When he reached his room, the familiar space greeted him with silence. His eyes flickered toward the cracked mirror near the dressing table. The fractured glass reflected his tired face in uneven halves, distorting his image.

On the table, a book lay abandoned—its cover worn, its pages torn at the edges.

Junshi paused, his sore fingers tracing the faded ink before he sat down. There were no performances or lessons left for the day, nothing else he needed to do. So, he decided to read.

Without thinking much, he flipped it open.

The world outside faded. The pain in his fingers dulled.

And for a while, there was only the story.