Chapter Sixteen: Lu Xuemei in White

Chapter Sixteen: The Solitude of Lu Xuemei in White

Sunlight poured over the flourishing earth, embracing the world in a gentle warmth.

Beside a murmuring brook stood a courtyard, not ostentatious, nestled between verdant mountains and drifting clouds. Within this retreat was a young woman, her phoenix-shaped eyes and willow-leaf brows serene, her long, snow-white hair cascading to her waist. An exquisite white jade pendant hung at her throat, resting at the center of her chest. Her skin was flawless as new snow; her figure graceful, her features delicate and lovely. She wore a low-collared white robe, a flowing white skirt, and dainty white shoes on her small, elegant feet. She was like a beauty stepped from a painting, now bathed in golden sunlight.

Yet her slender silhouette was steeped in sorrow and loneliness. To behold her in that moment would stir pity in any man and the urge to gather her into a warm, strong embrace.

Some four or five miles away along the same brook, a handsome youth in white robes sat astride a rainbow-feathered cloud eagle. Arms folded, he held a long, ivory-white flute. Dismounting by the stream, he brought the flute to his lips and played a tune—clear and melodious, graceful and poignant. The notes drifted through the air, carrying both carefree abandon and a longing for his mother.

Amid thirty thousand green mountains and white clouds,
Beside the ancient stream,
Lonely sorrow,
Lonely sorrow.
A maiden in white, a youth in white,
Clad in white, longing for their mother,
Longing for their mother.
By the endless river’s fading banks,
Beside the ancient road,
Two gaze at each other,
Wistful thoughts,
Wistful thoughts.
A gentleman in white, a youth in white,
Night’s loneliness,
Wandering alone,
Wandering alone.
Countless sorrows—whence do they come,
Where do they return?
One flute, one zither, music for the world,
Music for the world.
Desiring to play for all who yearn,
Yet unable to forget…
…

When the lady in white heard the flute, the sadness in her eyes slowly gave way to comfort, and her cold expression softened into a gentle smile. In the light of that smile, even the warm sun seemed to pale. Her jade-like hands opened before her chest; with a thought, a mystical seal appeared in her right palm. The seal grew, unfolding like a doorway, from which a simple yet elegant white zither drifted into her hands.

She rose several hundred meters above the ground, traced another arcane seal with her right hand, and a cloud instantly floated beneath her. Seated cross-legged on the cloud, she and her zither seemed to merge into the whiteness, creating a scene both unique and mysterious. Her slender fingers danced swiftly across the strings, drawing forth a plaintive, lingering melody.

It was as if beautiful music was emanating from the heart of the cloud, yet the player remained hidden. The zither’s melody harmonized with the flute’s song, blending seamlessly into the most perfect rhythm, the most stirring sounds. The flowers and trees, the creatures of earth and sky, all surrendered to the magic of their music. The stream’s murmur became their accompaniment, the swaying blossoms and branches their dance, and the birds and beasts their most devoted audience.

The youth entered the courtyard just as the piece concluded and the lady in white finished playing. The loneliness and sorrow in her heart dispersed like mist before his flute. She stowed away her zither and gently descended from the cloud.

The courtyard was simple: a resting pavilion, a lounge chair, and a modest three-story building.

“Little Li Hao, you’ve come to keep your sister company again?” The lady in white smiled warmly, her beautiful eyes half-closed as she watched the youth approach, flute in hand.

The young flutist, clad in white, was none other than Li Hao. Today, after completing his daily lessons, lunching at the Hall of the Divine Healer, and doing his laundry, he found himself with no new tasks from the Divine Herbalist. Remembering he had not visited Sister Mei at Flowing Water Pavilion for several days, he donned the white robe she liked and brought along the white jade flute she had given him.

This place was called Flowing Water Pavilion, three hundred miles from the Hall of the Divine Healer. Li Hao borrowed a rainbow cloud eagle and made his way here.

Sister Mei, as Li Hao called her, was Lu Xuemei, the youngest daughter of Lu Xueyao’s eldest uncle.

Lu Xuemei often stayed here and rarely returned home. Every family has its troubles—her father was a charming man with seven or eight concubines. When feelings are not managed well, conflict arises. With so many wives, Lu Xuemei’s father inevitably bred discord among them.

Open spears are easy to dodge; hidden arrows are hard to guard against.

Lu Xuemei’s mother was the youngest among her father’s wives, honest and straightforward, unwilling to flatter the other women. She was also her father’s favorite. Her greatest adversary was the first wife—a woman of deep scheming. Though she never openly made trouble, she often plotted behind closed doors. Everyone knew, but nothing was ever brought to light. Her father, busy with affairs of the Justice Palace, rarely had time for his wives.

Four years ago, the first wife approached Xuemei’s mother, saying, “Sister, I’d like to visit my family and would be grateful for your company. Would you come with me…?” Her sincerity seemed genuine, and Xuemei’s mother, thinking the others unwilling, agreed, hoping to improve their icy relationship. The first wife’s family lived millions of miles away in the Lu Jia Mountain Star Domain. With a few guards, they set out, and all went well until their return.

On the way back, they were attacked in the starry sky by a frenzied, powerful demon beast. They fought desperately; their guards died in droves, and in the end, Lu Xuemei’s mother perished in the battle.

According to the surviving guards, the beast seemed to target Xuemei’s mother specifically.

The incident was suspicious, and Lu Xuemei had sought the truth ever since, but to no avail.

Quick-witted and gifted from childhood, Lu Xuemei was her father’s darling. After her mother’s death, most siblings excluded her. Her father, perpetually busy, had little time for her. Though in her twenties—a mere blink of an eye for their kind—she believed herself grown, capable of independence. Against her father’s wishes, she left the Justice Palace, where he presided as the supreme authority and where they used to live.

Lu Xuemei preferred the peace here and had her guards build a humble dwelling among the green hills and blue waters.

She lingered here out of longing for her mother and a desire to avoid the intrigues of her siblings and the stepmothers who disliked her. Strong-willed and independent, she disliked relying on others. Sometimes she would visit the Divine Herbalist, who also visited her when time allowed. The old man loved this granddaughter dearly, though she was not as lively as Lu Yao and did not cling to him.

When Lu Xuemei moved here, Li Hao spent more time with her than anyone else—apart from Lu Yao. In those lonely, sorrowful days, Li Hao grew enchanted by her flute and zither. She was grateful to him; his presence had softened her melancholy. Eventually, unable to refuse his persistence, she agreed to teach him to play.

Among the Divine Herbalist’s many descendants, Lu Xuemei was the only one whose talent was second only to Lu Yao’s. At twenty-six, she had reached the pinnacle of the Roaming Realm. Since childhood she loved music, excelling at both flute and zither.

Li Hao began learning music from Lu Mei at six. At first, she was reluctant, thinking him too young and herself too troubled—teaching would be a waste. But Li Hao’s dogged insistence wore her down. He would trail after her, kneading her long legs and pink shoulders, flattering her endlessly: “Sister Mei, you must be tired. Let Hao’er give you a massage. How does that feel? Comfortable?”

Though her temperament was cool and aloof, even Lu Xuemei could not stay unmoved by Li Hao. Among her many sisters, she liked Lu Yao best, and after her, Li Hao, both beautiful and clever.

Listening to her play, Li Hao had fallen in love with music, pestering her to teach him. Finally, she relented. To her surprise, whatever she taught, Li Hao mastered quickly. In a matter of months, he had learned nearly all she knew. Such monstrous talent left her no choice but to admire him.

“Sister Mei, what are you doing? Let me guess! Did you perhaps divine that I, your honored guest, would come keep you company today?” Li Hao posed with mock solemnity.

Lu Xuemei was amused by his antics.

She laughed out loud—a sound before which all the world’s flowers would fade, a beauty beyond compare.

“Sister Mei is so beautiful. I wonder if Yao’er will grow as lovely as she is someday?” Li Hao thought this to himself, not daring to voice it, fearing Sister Mei would be jealous of Lu Yao and spank him.

When he was younger and mischievous, Li Hao’s bottom had often felt Lu Xuemei’s hand.

“Little Li Hao, you’re getting naughtier by the day. I fear you’ll never find a wife at this rate,” she teased.

“If I can’t find a wife, then Sister Mei, you’ll just have to marry me!” Li Hao blurted out.

Regret hit him instantly—he thought, “Oh no, I’m doomed! Who knows how Sister Mei will punish me this time?”

“What did you say? I didn’t quite catch that. Say it again?” Lu Xuemei feigned deafness, though she had heard perfectly well.

“What did I say? Oh, Sister Mei, your smile has made me forget everything!” Li Hao replied glibly.

“You rascal, if you don’t explain yourself, I’ll see where you try to run!” She seized his arm, forcing him to repeat himself.

“My dear ancestor, are you trying to torment me to death?” Li Hao could only pray inwardly for mercy.

“Sister Mei, if I say it, you have to promise not to spank me, all right?” he pleaded.

“Alright,” Lu Mei said with mock seriousness.

“If I can’t find a wife, I’ll marry you,” Li Hao declared, bracing himself—since not saying it would end badly anyway.

Lu Xuemei thought to herself, “So I’m just an option if you can’t find anyone else? Is your sister so unworthy?”

Fuming, she gave Li Hao a swift kick as he tried to flee.

He stumbled, nearly falling flat on his face.

“See, didn’t I keep my word? I didn’t spank you—I kicked you!” Lu Xuemei declared, as if it were only natural.

Li Hao felt a little deflated. “I miscalculated again. Next time, I’ll have to be more careful.”

He forced a smile, “No, no, Sister Mei is a beautiful lady of her word. No—more beautiful than any lady.”

Lu Xuemei’s expression seemed to say, “Naturally. I always keep my promises.”

Had any of Lu Xuemei’s admirers witnessed their playful banter, they would have wished to eat Li Hao alive to appease their jealousy.

She was their goddess, one whose presence made them feel unworthy, daring only to admire her in secret.

How could their goddess possibly smile so radiantly at this cheeky boy?