Chapter 71: Literary Competition - A Dream Remembering the Past Part 2
Am I going to give this to him…but this is such a personal object. If I offer it for him to use, people might think...
Still undecided, she felt the demons and gods take hold of her once more, and her voice came out in a low whisper, “I… I have one.”
All the gazes darted to Hua Shuirou’s direction, most of them amazed yet puzzled. Because for a woman to allow the use of her flute, it could have no other meaning.
Could it be that this young lady of the Hua family was actually...
Ye Wuchen's mouth twitched upward over so slightly, then stepped forward to stand in front of Hua Shuirou. Hua Shuirou was already holding out a short bluish-green flute in her hands, the jade material sparkling delicately in her small white hands.
As Ye Wuchen approached, a heady spinning sensation hits her, causing Hua Shuirou to lower her head, hands trembling as she held up the flute. Ye Wuchen takes it with a smile, his hand lightly brushing against her smooth palm. Hua Shuirou quickly withdraws her hand as if shocked by a current. She kept her hands tightly together between her knees, her face red as this was the first time somebody touched her hands aside from her relatives. She would have a restless night, berating herself for allowing something so improper.
“I am eternally grateful to receive this from such a beautiful woman.” Ye Wuchen said smiling as he returned to the stage. As he admired the flute in his hand he said softly, “Green jade is pure and limpid, as gentle and smooth as a woman's skin and able to keep the fragrance of a woman’s lips. Forgive me for being rough with it.”
His teasing words left the entire audience dumbfounded, Hua Shuirou let out a small squeak, burying her head deep in her chest, ashamed and wishing for a way to escape.
Lin Xiao's expression changed again and again, ultimately his forced smile had completely disappeared. The one whom he cherished and is engaged to had given a man her own flute in front of everybody… furthermore to the same man who had beaten him in every competition so far. This was the equivalent of stabbing a sharp blade through his heart, causing him to snarl loudly in order to vent out his pain.
“A short flute, are you sure?” Long Yin asked.
Long and short flutes, although played similarly, with regard to quality, the short flute is inferior. It would also be difficult for someone accustomed to a long flute to adapt to a short flute, and vice versa.
Ye Wuchen nodded and smiled. “This tune… Is for myself.”
Playing for himself—Lin Xiao had dedicated the tone to his deceased mother. One played with a long flute, the other a short flute. By paying for his deceased mother, his filial piety had influenced people to some degree. Playing for oneself seemed relatively dull in comparison. Whether it was in the opinion of the audience or the type of flute, Ye Wuchen was clearly at a disadvantage.
Ye Wuchen lightly pressed the flute to his lips, a pleasing scent slowly entered his nostrils. Hua Shuirou covered her face, heat emanated from her in an alarming degree. That is also where she puts her lips, now it’s… she couldn’t think further. For her who had never been out of her chambers, aside from her own father she has never spent time with another man. She has never broached these topics of love it has become too much for her heart to bear. For her, this kind of “intimate” touch can only be done between a married couple.
Tonight, she would not be able to sleep peacefully.
The audience waited for a while, yet no sound could be heard. Ye Wuchen only stood there silently like a statue. Eventually, he closed his eyes. In an instant, the people felt a change in the energy surrounding him. For the duration of the silence, a faint depressing emotion generated from the bottom of their hearts. It grew more and more heavy, until the feeling burdened them like heavy iron weights to the point where it was becoming difficult to breathe.
Intense sorrow, much too difficult to bear...
A small sound echoed, feather light, as light as the breeze slowly blowing past. Yet as every note passed through ears, hearts and lips grew quiet…even the whole world was wrapped in silence. No other sound could be heard, only the lingering vestiges of a note long since passed.
And yet another brief note sounded, moving the hearts of all who heard, leaving them trembling in this one peaceful moment.
The tempo gradually accelerated, as did the feeling in their hearts, speeding up until the notes became a heartbreaking melancholic tune. The sound is still very light, as if the touch of a cool breeze will break it, but rang clear all the same. It does not resonate in their ears but in the deepest part of their hearts, it stopped their breaths for fear of disturbing the melody.
A bright and beautiful day, but a weak and miserable wind. A small plant sprouted from the earth. It appears to have accumulated so much happiness, so many hopes. In the middle of warmth, the plant gradually grow, showing off to the world its life and vitality, but the wind… still as miserable as it was. From time to time, the plant would quietly tremble in the center of this wind.
One day, black clouds covered the sky, pitch black and dense containing terrible amounts of pressure, pressed down making it hard to breathe. Finally, a clap of thunder sounded, malevolent lightning slashed through the curtain of clouds, a downpour of heavy rain, a devastating wind blew, heartlessly ravaging the soft and immature plant. Hitting it relentlessly, it did not collapse, still unyieldingly facing the sky, standing its body upright. No matter how the wind howled, how pitiless the rain was, it still clenched tight its jaws because it would not fall.
The people's hearts clenched tightly, aching.
After a night of wind and rain, it became incomparably weak, but it did not fall. Still facing the sky, reveling in its hard won victory.
However, it was a short respite. It continued to mature and grow, until one day, the violent rainstorm returned. It used all its strength to prop up its young and tender body, supporting itself, resisting still…
The corners of Ye Wuchen’s eyes grew slightly wet, but that was of no consequence. In a distant memory, a vague childhood memory, he saw his three-year-old self trying to gnash his teeth shut. He exerted too much effort, his gums bled, face distorted, his body trembling violently. That is the kind of suffering he had experienced, the pain that he alone had endured, more painful than being pricked by a thousand knives, ten thousand…But this pain he would endure quietly, he could not let mother know, could not let mother worry, could not fall himself...Because this is the hope that he had been waiting for for a very long time.
Mother…Who are you? Where are you right now? Why am I yearning for you so? But the yearning brings warmth to my heart, the warmth that has caused me to weep.
And where is that hope now? Why am I unable to find it no matter how hard I try?
And to the me at that time, why do you have to endure that kind of pain every month, is it the same kind of pain I had half month ago ---- No! They are not the same, they are different, the pain from the past is much, much deeper.
What kind of past did I have?
Who am I?
Translated by: Fatty_Uncle
Edited by: seriouspotato & patrick_father_of_dragons