Chapter 86: Myth · Panhe

“Ha ha, excellent!”
Cai Yong sat atop the dais, clapping his hands in delight as he praised them, while the gifted scholar and lovely maiden exchanged a knowing smile.
All the silent understanding and affection that had quietly blossomed between them was contained in their bright eyes, needing no words.
To Zhang Yu, Cai Yan’s features were neither as stunning as Diao Chan’s nor as exquisitely charming as Zhen Luo’s, yet hers inspired the most pleasant sense of comfort.
Like endlessly gentle cotton and down, like a warm stream washing over the heart.
And her dignified and wise bearing—this was the air of a true lady, cultivated by the finest learning and upbringing, the kind of grace that endures even as beauty fades.
She looked much the same as yesterday, yet today Zhang Yu felt his heart stirred.
Because she was smiling; last night, Cai Yan had been serene and reserved, never smiling at all.
For a moment, Zhang Yu wondered if he was seeing things, but when his own lips involuntarily curled up, he understood the subtlety of the feeling.
“Yu, thank you for the song you gifted us,” Cai Yan said with gentle grace.
“Yulang, just call me Zhaoji,” she replied.
“Very well.”
“Yulang, do you play the zither?” Cai Yan asked.
“I am roughly familiar with flute, pipe, drums, zither, and guzheng.”
Cai Yan’s smile remained serene and elegant. “Earlier, with ‘Prelude to the Water Melody,’ you accompanied without knowing the score, so I already knew your talent.”
Actually, I can sing as well, Zhang Yu thought with a smile.
He walked over and sat before a guzheng.
“Today, I too have a piece to offer.”
Cai Yong and Cai Yan exchanged a glance, both sitting quietly with smiles to listen.
Zhang Yu donned tortoiseshell finger picks, placed his left hand upon the strings, and summoned the skill and familiar score from his system.
He played softly, the sound like gentle rain tapping banana leaves—barely audible from afar, yet lingering in the ear when listened for in silence.
Mellow and graceful, deep and clear.
Finally, the music flowed forth, lingering and plaintive, entwined with longing.
“Zhaoji, what do you hear in it?”
“Strange. Strange notes, strange melody, and the person… also strange.
I have heard many guzheng tunes, perhaps hundreds if counting other instruments, yet never a piece composed outside the pentatonic scale and twelve-tone system.”
“Yet…”
“Yet, though its meaning is somewhat lacking and its style simple and limited, at first hearing it is quite pleasing, and the melody, much like his own seven-character verses, might be more popular among common folk.”

“His works, good or bad, are all extraordinary. I suspect he is not a man of this world!”
Their voices dropped to a whisper, while Zhang Yu was utterly absorbed in his own world.
He was playing a guzheng piece he had loved in his previous life, adapted from ‘The Beautiful Myth.’
The movie itself had its flaws, but the song instantly touched Zhang Yu’s heart—it always made his soul tremble.
He knew well that ancient music and modern songs had little in common; ancient melodies followed the rules of the “gong, shang, jiao, zhi, yu” pentatonic scale, and composition was based on the twelve-tone system. ‘Mencius’ says, “Without the six modes, the five tones cannot be made correct,” referring to six yang modes of the twelve.
But what did it matter? To play a beloved poem, to perform a cherished song—it was not for others’ approval, but perhaps simply to leave a trace of himself behind.
A literary Wang Mang would leave no lasting harm; at most, he’d go unrecognized by his contemporaries, but two thousand years later, he might be revered as a legend.
Unexpectedly, when Zhang Yu finished his piece, neither Cai Yong nor Cai Yan criticized its unconventional style; instead, both looked as though they wished to hear more.
“This melody is beautiful; surely another of Yulang’s compositions. What is its name?”
“It is called ‘Myth.’”
“Does it have a story?”
“When I was a child, I glimpsed it in a book. It tells of a scholar who is the reincarnation of a general from a thousand years ago, always seeing his wife’s face in his dreams. By a twist of fate, he travels back a thousand years in search of his beloved.”
“Such a mysterious tale?”
“Indeed. Unfortunately, the book was later lost, and I mourned it for quite some time.”
“Reincarnation, a thousand-year search… I confess I have never heard the like.”
“That is all I recall. Deeply moved, I composed this melody, and it became one of my favorites.”
“Did the general ever find her?”
“He did.”
Cai Yan seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.
“But his wife refused to leave with him.”
“Why?”
“Because she felt the one she loved had died; though his face was the same, he was no longer her beloved general…”
Zhang Yu dared not continue, seeing Cai Yan’s expression grow cold and distant as she wrestled with her feelings.
“Father, Yulang, I have matters to attend to. I will take my leave.”
With that, Cai Yan departed into the side chamber.
Cai Yong sighed softly, then asked, “I do not yet know Yulang’s age.”
“Sir, I am seventeen this year.”
“Oh? Then you are close in age to Zhaoji. Are you married?”

“I am.”
The footsteps that had just faded outside continued, growing more distant.
Hebei, Jizhou.
Panhe.
“Traitor! How dare you sell me out!” roared a voice from the bridge.
All eyes turned to see a warrior resplendent in armor, adorned with extravagant brilliance, his valor unmatched.
His presence was imposing, with bold brows and short-cropped hair, astride a pure white steed, holding a long blade on the bridge.
Opposite him, Yuan Shao’s armor gleamed, equally dignified, as he replied sternly, “Han Wenjie knows his own limits and willingly ceded Jizhou to me, Yuan Shao. What business is it of yours, Gongsun Zan?”
“In days past, I believed you, Yuan Benchu, to be a man of loyalty and righteousness, which is why we all chose you as our leader!
Who would have thought, with Luoyang’s embers still burning and the traitor Dong Zhuo yet unvanquished, you would betray your trust, causing my brother to die by your hand—you are truly heartless!
Let me ask you with this blade—what face have you left to live in this world?”
“Bold words!” Yuan Shao thundered. “Who will capture this scoundrel for me?”
Before the words had faded, a fierce general charged forth!
His steed was a blue roan, swift as thunder, and in an instant he was upon Gongsun Zan.
Who was Gongsun Zan? The famed White Horse General of Hebei and beyond, master of bow and horse, peerless in skill, fierce and formidable—a ruler who could withstand a thousand foes alone. He spurred his horse and wielded his blade to meet the challenge!
“Clang!”
Spear and blade collided with force; Gongsun Zan’s arms went numb from the shock. In surprise, he looked at the black-armored warrior, who showed contempt and thrust his spear again.
“Who are you?”
“The one who will take your life!”
Gongsun Zan had never felt such helplessness; the man before him reminded him of Liu Bei’s two brothers. In sudden alarm, he cried, “Yan Liang? Wen Chou?”
“Ha ha ha!” Wen Chou laughed wildly, utterly arrogant. “Any one of my brothers could take your life. Today is your death day, Gongsun Zan!”
Gongsun Zan’s troops saw their lord in peril; yet in the midst of the fierce duel, to shoot arrows would be impossible, so they charged en masse. Yuan’s forces, well arrayed, were ready for battle.
As soon as the melee began, blood and flesh flew everywhere!
Gongsun Zan’s earlier bravado vanished; he fought with all his strength, finally fleeing back to his troops, only to find the murderous foe still close behind!
Wen Chou rode straight into the central ranks; soldiers scattered in fear, and those too slow were beheaded with a single thrust—such was the power of one man!