Sang Liu stared at Lila's delicate hand reaching out toward him. Instinctively, he recoiled, clutching the treasured poem close to his chest with a wry smile.
"Miss Lila, this doesn't seem quite right, does it?" he asked, his voice laced with reluctance.
The whole reason he'd hurried out was to avoid obstacles along the way. A national treasure like this poem was bound to attract countless admirers. It was only in the relatively calm environment of the Spring Breeze Tower that he had a chance to secure it—anywhere else, he might not have been so lucky.
But, of course, an obstacle had appeared, as he'd feared.
It wasn't Lila he feared, but the powerful figure she represented.
"Master Liu, are you serious about that half-step retreat?" Lila said with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Miss Lila, a gentleman does not take what others treasure,"Sang Liu replied, clinging to formality as he struggled with his options.
"I'm merely a girl, not a gentleman," Lila responded smoothly.
"This was a gift from Nathan." Sang Liu argued, trying to assert his claim.
"Then you can certainly gift it to someone else," Lila countered without hesitation.
"Why do you even want this poem, Miss Lila? You're not a scholar." Sang Liu continued, trying to reason with her.
"Let's not pretend, Master Liu. We both know this isn't for me but for my mistress," Lila replied, a hint of sharpness in her tone.
Sang Liu's expression stiffened.
This was exactly what he'd feared. Although he was the son of a prime minister, even his standing couldn't match Clara Xiao's influence. Others might not fully understand her background, but he did.
Clara wasn't just the head of the intelligence bureau, with countless agents under her command. She was also a formidable cultivator, renowned for her exceptional talents from a young age. Most importantly, her relationship with Emperor Zhou was deep-rooted—they had grown up together, sharing a bond as close as siblings. Some even speculated that the unfilled throne might one day be reserved for her.
So, when he'd told Nathan that Clara belonged to a "powerful figure," it wasn't entirely untrue. In the capital, who could be more powerful than the Emperor?
"If Miss Xiao truly admires this work, I could lend it to her for appreciation, but... it must be returned," Sang Liu replied, barely able to mask his reluctance.
"To be clear," Lila said, her words piercing, "my mistress intends to present this to His Majesty. Surely, Master Liu, you know the Emperor's interest in Master Nathan... Such a national treasure is not something His Majesty would overlook. Or, perhaps, you plan to keep this from His Majesty?"
Lila's pointed remarks left Sang Liu speechless.
"Very well," he sighed, reluctantly taking the poem from his sleeve and handing it over, his gaze filled with longing.
It hadn't even had the chance to warm in his hands.
Lila took the poem, and without even verifying its authenticity, she vanished in an instant—a clear testament to her own skills as a cultivator.
...
Lila returned to the Spring Breeze Tower silently, as if she'd never left. She slipped through a hidden passage back to Clara Xiao's room and waited quietly at her mistress's side.
She glanced at the curtain hanging between Clara and Nathan, a sly smile on her lips.
Miss Clara had begun again.
Every man who met with her had to go through this little ritual.
Clara glanced through the translucent curtain at the faint silhouette of Nathan and smiled. Her hands rested on the ancient zither before her as she began to play, letting the music flow gently.
"A performance?" Nathan thought, a bit surprised. In his past life, he'd been an enthusiast of ancient arts, dabbling in calligraphy, poetry, and music, though he'd never truly mastered any of them.
He closed his eyes, drawn to the melody.
The sound of the zither rose, delicate and serene, with a level of skill that Nathan had to admit was exceptional. In his mind, the notes painted an image of a gently flowing stream—a stream born from a thousand harmonies, moving peacefully and with calm steadiness.
It was indeed quite refined.
But after a few moments, Nathan felt something missing. The melody was beautiful, serene, almost too steady. It lacked variation, and as the stream continued to flow without change, a sense of restlessness crept into his heart.
Music, after all, was a complex art. While pitch and technical skill were essential, the spirit of a song lay in its composition. Even the most skilled player couldn't bring life to an uninspired piece—it would merely feel like a technical display.
By all standards, Clara's playing was impressive, and the piece itself was sophisticated. But it lacked dynamism. It was as if the stream was forever flowing without encountering rocks or twists. There was no tension, no release. Without depth, the scene lacked imagination and fell short in atmosphere.
Unconsciously, Nathan's brow furrowed.
Though separated by a curtain, both Lila and Clara, being cultivators, could sense Nathan's expression.
Clara's playing stopped abruptly, her own brow furrowing slightly.
It was Lila who spoke first, puffing up her cheeks in disapproval. "Master Ye, what do you think of my mistress's performance of The Flowing Stream?"
Nathan, not hesitating, replied, "What kind of music is that?"
This book is provided by FunNovel Novel Book | Fan Fiction Novel [Beautiful Free Novel Book]