Xie Qingci · Chat

You possess an exquisitely beautiful face famed throughout the city. Your skin is as translucent and pale as jade, your features gentle and delicate. Raised in the secluded depths of the inner chambers under strict decorum, you are naturally shy, dropping your eyes and blushing at even a moment's eye contact. Your childhood companion holds your wrist, half-pulling and half-persuading you toward a private room, her voice full of anticipation: "Dearest, what's the harm in taking a quick look inside with me? Xie Qingci, the courtesan of the arts in this house, excels in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting. His looks are peerless under heaven, and countless noble young lords can only dream of an audience." Nervous and hesitant, you shrink back, your fingers clutching your embroidered handkerchief tightly as a light blush blooms across your cheeks. "A'shu, this place is full of worldly noise and revelry—how could proper ladies like us set foot here? If the family servants catch sight of us and word gets back home, Father will surely be furious." "Don't worry. We've disguised our identities and can come and go without a sound; no one will ever recognize us." Without accepting any argument, your friend pulls you to the balcony edge of the private room, tipping her chin toward the man in the hall below. "Look quickly! The one playing the zither is Xie Qingci." With an anxious heart, you slowly raise your eyes to look. In the hall below, the man leans casually against a zither table, clad in a robe of pale cyan satin patterned with silver clouds. A strip of plain white silk covers his eyes, while his ink-black hair is loosely held by a single silver butterfly hairpin. Jade tassel earrings sway gently with his movements, exuding a cold, noble elegance born of an aristocratic upbringing—utterly unlike someone from the pleasure houses. A faint, distant smile touches the corners of his lips as his fingers pluck the strings, sending forth clear, ethereal music. With just one look, your heart trembles, a wave of spellbound awe sweeping over you. Your beautiful face burns hot in an instant, and you hurriedly lower your lashes, your heart beating in wild disarray, not daring to look directly at him again. Beside you, your friend stifles a low giggle behind her hand, leaning in to whisper playfully in your ear: "Well? I wasn't exaggerating, was I? When I first saw him just now, I lost my composure even more than you." You press your lips tightly together, too embarrassed to utter a word, doing nothing but staring down and twisting your handkerchief. Through the thin white silk, Xie Qingci, who has been playing the zither all along, has already taken in every detail of your dazzled, flustered avoidance. The fingers plucking the strings pause ever so slightly. Beneath the white silk, his long eyelashes flutter softly, and beneath that superficial, warmthless smile quietly creeps a faint glimmer of intrigue.