Hearing the increasingly noisy commotion outside, Yang Ruilin pushed open the door, walked out onto the third floor’s circular corridor, and looked around.
“Hey, Wangchen, come look!”
It seemed he had spotted something that excited him. He hurried back into the private room, grabbed Gu Wangchen by the sleeve, and pulled him out.
“What’s going on?”
“The highlight of the night is about to begin!”
Gu Wangchen raised an eyebrow, replying calmly, “Su Qianhua is making her appearance?”
“Not just yet.” As the two reached the circular corridor, Yang Ruilin turned and leaned his back against the vermillion-lacquered railing, grinning at Gu Wangchen. “Wangchen, look up there.”
Following the direction of Yang Ruilin’s finger, Gu Wangchen half-squinted his eyes, gazing at the soft, shimmering light atop the main building of Jingfang Pavilion.
The sound of silk and bamboo instruments swelled, seductive melodies echoing throughout the hall.
Dozens of dancers clad in celestial robes, their garments like rainbows, rode colorful ribbons as they spiraled down from the tenth floor’s summit.
They scattered petals in the air as if goddesses descending from the heavens, finally landing gracefully on the central high stage to continue their enchanting dance.
“Hoh?”
At this sight, Gu Wangchen was suddenly intrigued.
No wonder—this scene was all too familiar to him, almost etched into his very DNA!
This was the CG scene from the original plot, just before Su Qianhua’s grand entrance!
“So, Wangchen, how do you feel?” Yang Ruilin’s gaze was glued to the bare waists and snowy curves of the dancers on the main stage below, his eyes wishing they could split into eight.
Gu Wangchen slapped Yang Ruilin on the shoulder and said, “Alright, quit ogling. After all you’ve indulged in, you’re still interested in these ordinary painted faces?”
“Heh, Wangchen, that’s not fair. Look closely.” Yang Ruilin pointed at the dancers on stage. “Look at those little waists, those tiny feet… and that barely-there gauze—tsk, tsk.”
“And besides,” he turned his head, putting on a serious expression, “what do you mean ‘ordinary painted faces’? This is the very essence of beauty!”
Seeing Yang Ruilin’s old habits flare up again, Gu Wangchen couldn’t be bothered to argue. He braced his hands on the railing, his eyes sweeping over the surging, thunderous crowd below.
“The atmosphere’s been stoked to this point. Wang Lingniang’s precious daughter should be making her entrance soon, don’t you think?”
Just then, Yang Ruilin shook his shoulder again. “Hey, hey, Wangchen, look—flowers! Flowers falling from the sky!”
Gu Wangchen lifted his gaze to the rooftop.
There, the top of the building dimmed, and a giant peony bud, as large as a carriage and glowing red, slowly descended from above.
The dancers on stage once again stirred their colorful ribbons, soaring into the air like stars circling the moon, dancing around the enormous peony.
“It’s coming, it’s coming! I bet Miss Su is inside!”
As the peony dropped to the level of the third floor, Yang Ruilin grew more and more excited, clenching the railing tightly with both hands.
“I don’t get why you’re so worked up—it’s just a courtesan. It’s not like you haven’t had your share.” Gu Wangchen instinctively edged away from this lascivious fellow.
“That’s where you’re wrong!”
Yang Ruilin quickly reined in his excitement, turned to look at him, and said earnestly, “Do you think I’m that kind of person?”
He walked right up to Gu Wangchen, face serious. “I just changed my bet as you suggested, Wangchen, wagering that you’ll take the top spot and win Miss Su’s ribbon. And…”
He rubbed his fingers together. “I even added five thousand taels!”
“You trust me that much?” Gu Wangchen smiled casually.
“Come on, aren’t we brothers? Of course I trust you! Think of this money as a venture capital of brotherly faith. If you win, we split it half and half. If you lose… well, it’s not like a few coins matter!”
“Alright, with that promise, I have no choice but to win the top prize!” Gu Wangchen chuckled lightly and turned his gaze back to the giant glowing red peony hovering at the center.
That Wang Lingniang truly understood the art of hype. She’d kept the literati and scholars of Sheng’an hanging for almost two years, spending tens of thousands of taels, all for this one dazzling entrance.
That giant glowing peony must have cost her a fortune to commission from a formation master.
Ding ling…
The peony’s petals slowly unfolded, and the dancing celestial maidens bent gracefully, reaching out slender hands to invite the crowd along the corridor.
The luminous peony bloomed in silence, its petals transforming into a shower of glittering stars.
A peerless woman in a misty violet celestial gown slowly lifted her breathtaking purple eyes. Her figure was graceful, shoulders delicate, waist slender, skin like creamy jade, gleaming whiter than snow.
Beneath the sheer robe, the mesmerizing curves of her form traced out a rare and alluring silhouette.
She wore a thin lavender veil, her unrivaled beauty hidden beneath, ethereal as an immortal, dreamlike and unreal.
She knelt upon a wooden lotus pedestal, her pale hands caressing a zither, the lingering music reverberating through the air.
The flying dancers circled around, ribbons drifting down, forming an illusion of a magnificent rivers-and-mountains landscape.
Gu Wangchen watched every moment of this rare “entry CG,” his eyes falling on Su Qianhua, who sat playing the zither at the center.
Just then, their eyes met—those deep, soul-stirring violet eyes locking with his.
Was it his imagination, or did he catch a flicker of emotion in Su Qianhua’s gaze—some kind of… longing?
Moments later, the lotus platform touched down, and the dancers offered a bow before riding the wind away.
Soon after, layers of sheer curtains floated down from above, veiling Su Qianhua completely, leaving only a slender, indistinct silhouette.
The crowd below erupted in buzzing complaint; most found this tantalizing curtain trick quite frustrating.
“Everyone, everyone, today is Miss Su’s debut. Of course, things must proceed step by step~”
Just then, Wang Lingniang gracefully ascended the stage, standing before the curtains, holding a sound-amplifying talisman, her voice soft and sweet.
“To be honest, Qianhua is like a daughter to me.” Wang Lingniang’s eyes reddened, and she began her tale:
“Years ago, by the banks of the Weishui River, I saw a cradle drifting from afar…”
Gu Wangchen couldn’t help but let out a snort at Wang Lingniang’s fabricated story.
What a joke—Su Qianhua was adopted by her from the riverbank?
That might fool the people of this era, but for Gu Wangchen, who possessed memories of his past life, it was nothing but a farce.
He knew well: Su Qianhua, that golden-haired, jade-faced fox spirit, had come from the Cangwu Secret Realm of Shu in search of something.
If not for the need to find that crucial artifact, would she have bothered to hide out in Jingfang Pavilion?
Thinking of this, Gu Wangchen began to plan how to intercept Su Qianhua.
Should he use force, or a gentler approach?
Forget it, he’d adapt as things developed.
Given the current situation, since he had severed the opportunity for Sikong Yue and Li Zhaoning to meet, the plotline had shifted. That penniless Feng Aotian, fresh from descending the mountain, probably couldn’t afford to visit Jingfang Pavilion to encounter Su Qianhua now.
And with Sikong Yue absent, the accident from the original story would not occur.
So… a gentle approach it would be.
Having decided, Gu Wangchen looked once more at Wang Lingniang on stage.
“…Eighteen years have passed. Today, my daughter is finally making her debut… Can you understand a mother’s feelings right now?”
Wang Lingniang took out a silk handkerchief, dabbed at her tears, glanced back at the silhouette behind the curtains, and took a deep breath before continuing:
“But… rules must be observed. Tonight, only one gentleman can win Qianhua’s ribbon.”
“From childhood, Qianhua has loved poetry and music, and as her mother, I hope to find her a soulmate who can be her perfect match.”
“So then…” Wang Lingniang looked over the crowd below and those on the upper levels, all aroused by her words, the corners of her mouth lifting as she declared:
“Qianhua has always told me that she wishes to find a poem worthy of her beloved music and instrument.”