Chapter 17: Blazing Fire Burns the Melody (Part 6): That Dazzling Mole Part 2

The second act ended. Mu Qian Tan’s gaze remained impassive as she guided the leaf boat forward. Wrong turns meant killing demons and retrying, gradually piecing together the full story. The ensemble now included guzheng and yangqin.

The scenes continued. In a poor village lived a clever boy who could recite poetry flawlessly at seven, the pride of all.

His family was destitute, so he grew up on meals from many homes. Villagers saved their best for him, funded his studies, even scraped together travel money to send him to the capital for the imperial exams. They hoped he would rise high and bring prosperity to their decaying village.

Borne by these hopes, the youth set out. But en route, he was dazzled by worldly splendor. He resisted two cities but fell in Prosperous Joy.

Eat, drink, play, and revel—he did it all, squandering his funds in a brothel before sobering up and remembering his purpose. Penniless, he took to selling calligraphy and paintings on the street, hoping to resume his journey.

On a freezing winter day, with toes numb from cold, he ducked into a nearby theater for warmth. That’s when he spotted the young beauty playing pipa on stage. His heart shook; he swore to make her his.

He stalked her repeatedly until she passed his stall, then showed off with fine poetry. Who wouldn’t admire it? Yet this woman shook her head and refused.

He couldn’t believe it. Spoiled from childhood with everything handed to him, how could he accept this slap to his face?

In his heart, he secretly guessed she scorned him as a mere poor scholar. If he were an official, she would surely agree.

Men like him always projected their flaws onto others. They themselves bent for money without hesitation, yet accused everyone else of greed. Rejected in love, they deemed the other shallow or vengeful—utterly vile and stupid.

Poor beauty—she thought only of next year’s Prosperous Joy Banquet and how to play her pipa better. Unaware of the baseless grudge against her.

The frustrated scholar drowned his woes in drink, learned her address, then staggered to her gate with a jug, proclaiming he would soon head to the capital and win great honors! If she had any foresight, she should come out and apologize now!

Passersby mocked his delusions and shamelessness. Seeing the door stay shut fueled his rage; that night, he tried scaling the wall, only to be caught by her father and hauled to the magistrate.

The county magistrate stroked his beard, eyed the youth, and declared him a promising exam candidate with a bright future—best to let him go leniently.

The father, seeing only a drunken fool whose daughter was unharmed, relented out of momentary kindness.

But who knew—the magistrate hadn’t considered the youth’s future at all. Rather, he noted the boy’s features resembled his friend Pavilion Master Huo. He summoned someone for a blood test and discovered the youth was Pavilion Master Huo’s long-lost son, kidnapped years ago.

Overnight, the drunken lout transformed into Young Master Huo of the grandest music pavilion—cloaked in finery, drowning in luxury. He reveled in it, convinced of his noble fate. Those childless poor villagers who had raised him? They’d robbed him of over a decade of good life—utterly hateful.

He had taken the imperial exam to make a name for himself later in life, but after this incident, he no longer bothered with the test. And with ownership of Prosperous Joy Workshop, he now held the power to decide who performed. He sought out the beauty again and tricked her into visiting the workshop, showing her endless wealth, but the beauty still shook her head.

The face-slapping scene from his fantasies never happened. It turned out that even if his status changed, she still wouldn’t like him. This harsh reality filled him with shame and rage. He locked the beauty in a room and bellowed: Before, you wouldn’t agree, and I was poor, so I had nothing to say about that. But now I hold your life in my hands—how dare you still scorn me?

The beauty cried and said she had no such intentions; she simply didn’t want to marry for the time being.

He shot back: Don’t want to? Then don’t leave. Stay here and think it over properly. Only come out when you’ve thought it through. Get this straight—I’ve got plenty of pipa girls under me. Replacing you would be easy!

These words happened to be overheard by a pipa girl named Zhu Huan, who took them at face value. That night, she broke into Young Master Huo’s residence, hoping to secure a performance slot at the banquet.

The man, his blood boiling with lust, agreed on impulse. But the next day, after looking into it, he realized this wasn’t something he could decide. The choice lay with those ten opera troupes and the common folk.

He went back to the room to persuade the beauty to give up, but she still refused to yield. With new and old grudges piling up after repeated rejections, evil surged to the forefront of his mind. He set the room ablaze, burning both the structure and the person inside to ashes.

Faced with the fire sea, Zhu Huan collapsed in shock on the ground. She heard the pipa melody of Flying Birds emerging from the fire sea, mournful and plaintive.

The entire room burned to cinders. When the flames died down, she stood amid the ashes and found the beauty’s favorite purple sandalwood pipa completely intact, shimmering with radiant light.

As if possessed by a ghost, she stole the pipa. The beauty’s parents, who rushed over upon hearing the terrible news, could only face the muddy ashes washed by heavy rain and a field of ruins.

Young Master Huo didn’t dare show his face. He sent someone to say: Originally, it was a great thing that the beauty could play Flying Birds, but she wasn’t satisfied. The other opera troupes wanted in on it too, so they kept coming to the workshop to hassle me. I had other matters to attend to and couldn’t be bothered with her, so I told her to wait off to the side. Who knew something like this would happen?

It’s such a pity. Her pipa playing was truly unforgettable. Such beauty, gone just like that.

The mother couldn’t accept her daughter’s death and went mad from that point on. The father knelt in the mud, trembling as he said: Your mother and I thought sending you here, to a bigger stage, would make you happy and free. How did it end up like this… no bones left behind.

He didn’t know Young Master Huo’s true identity and assumed the fire was just an unfortunate accident that befell his daughter. In the end, he grabbed a handful of mud and left with his wife, never to be heard from again.

Shang Shan listened to the whole story and grew so furious she wanted to charge into the window shadow, drag Young Master Huo out, and beat him senseless. But since it was a story that could be told, it was already set in stone, unchangeable. She could only slap her knee repeatedly: How could there be such a vile person in the world! Just because he was rejected, he had to murder someone! If he couldn’t have her, he’d destroy her! Who does he think he is!

Mu Qian Tan’s tone remained calm: Such things were commonplace.

Shang Shan shouted: Where is that Young Master Huo now? I want to grab him! How can a guy like that still live so happily…

All the window shadows faded, and the singing girls reappeared. Ahead, there were no more forks in the road; faint light leaked through. Mu Qian Tan shushed her lightly: Don’t make a sound.

The vines hanging from the door hall resembled beaded curtains. She parted them with her bow, and light flooded in abruptly.

This was still the stage hall, but the black water stopped at the threshold. On the smooth, polished floor sat around ten rows of chairs, each occupied by someone bound with qin strings. From their attire, they were performers and servants from the workshop.

On the stage, no one was present, yet several instruments played on their own. The music heard earlier in the waterway came from them.

The tune was passionate, like flocks of birds flapping their wings toward the sky, chirping and twittering in joyful exuberance. Unfortunately, the audience below all hung their heads, clearly fainted and unable to appreciate it.

Mu Qian Tan stepped off the boat onto the floor. Once the others followed, she recalled her magic tool. A single leaf was pinched between her fingers; she returned it to her storage pouch.

Her gaze swept over the crowd and found a singing girl in the front row center still awake, her face deathly pale and filled with extreme terror. Before she could say anything, the singing girl screamed shrilly: Save me! Please save me!

Mu Qian Tan examined her face closely and saw it resembled the pipa girl named Zhu Huan from the window shadow. No wonder the demon had left only this one awake—it must have been deliberate, to let her wallow in fear and regret.

Revenge meant nothing if the target didn’t know the reason and sincerely repent.

Zhu Huan continued to howl. Mu Qian Tan turned her head to watch the stage, ignoring her.

Shang Shan gently set Qin He down. Hearing the cry for help, she wanted to assist at first, but upon recognizing her, she snapped: It’s you! You deserve this—I won’t save you!

With that, she drew the dagger from before to loosen the others’ bonds, only to discover the demon had learned its lesson. Demonic power infused the strings made the dagger unable to cut them; they were even tightening gradually.

Shang Shan sheathed the dagger and pondered a solution. Mu Qian Tan found an empty chair and sat, crossing her legs as she glanced at the crowd: Hostages?

Shang Shan asked: What?

Mu Qian Tan explained: The demon gathered everyone from the workshop here and brought us along too. It wants to use them to threaten us, keep us from acting rashly.

Shang Shan had a sudden realization. Recalling what she’d just seen, enlightenment struck: I get it! Qin He was right—the demon is an instrument, and it’s the pipa!

She turned toward the stage and yelled: I know what you’re doing! You’re avenging your master, right?