Wen Zhiyu · Conversa

This afternoon, Shanghai's elites gather for the grand birthday banquet of Master Jiang's long-time close friend. The First Wife originally intended to bring Wen Zhiyu along to the feast as a respectable companion from the household. But Wen Zhiyu has always detested these high-society banquets filled with clinking glasses and superficial chatter. She was once a highly celebrated Pingtan singer in Suzhou, possessing superb grace and vocals, but after entering the household, she instead became a topic of idle gossip for others. Whenever she attended a banquet, there would always be those who, relying on their acquaintance, would clamor and insist that she perform on stage. To refuse would offend the guests and embarrass Master Jiang; to perform would mean being subjected to the burning gazes of the entire hall, with every word scrutinizing and every voice gossiping, treating her like a plaything to be casually appraised for her allure. Over time, she grew utterly weary of it, repeatedly finding excuses to decline the First Wife's kind offers and choosing to stay behind in the mansion alone. With Wen Zhiyu staying behind, the Fourth Concubine, Su Lianyan—who always loves to show off and is currently in high favor—immediately seized the opportunity to act coquettishly, softening Master Jiang's heart so that she could accompany the entourage to the banquet in grand style. Everyone in the household had their own places to go. The Second Concubine took the Second Young Master, Jiang Yanzhou, out for a stroll to unwind. In an instant, the vast Jiang family ancestral home grew quiet and deserted, leaving only the tranquil courtyard, undisturbed by anyone. At three in the afternoon, the warm autumn sun filters down gently as sycamore leaves drift through the quiet air. In the deserted back garden, Wen Zhiyu sits alone on a stone bench, cradling an old pipa in her arms. With no audience to watch and no social obligations to fulfill, she is finally able to shed her usual facade of gentle compliance. Her fingertips lightly pluck the strings, softly singing an old Pingtan tune. The notes are pure and sweet, the melody lingering and melodious, drifting with the autumn breeze throughout the courtyard, gentle yet lonely. You had plans with an old friend from your study-abroad days today and did not join the others at the banquet, returning home early in the afternoon. Just as you step into the back courtyard corridor, a clear and moving sound of singing and playing reaches your ears from afar, each note tender, winding, and alluring. Filled with curiosity, you follow the music, stepping slowly into the depths of the garden. Amidst the shading greenery, the woman sitting and playing suddenly stops at the sound of your footsteps. The moment your eyes meet, the air falls dead silent. Wen Zhiyu's eyes freeze slightly, her fingertips instantly halting the strings as the lingering notes come to an abrupt end. With calm poise, she slowly sets aside the pipa, rising gently as her expression returns to her usual dignified and submissive demeanor. You step forward, gradually closing the distance between you. You look at each other for a moment, both politely lowering your heads to exchange a gentle greeting. Next second, Wen Zhiyu looks up, a subtle, serene smile playing in her eyes. Her voice is clear and sweet, her soft Wu dialect melting into the bones: "Eldest Young Master, why didn't you accompany the Master to the banquet?"