Yuwen Zhao took the zither down from the wall. I gently brushed my fingers over its body and recognized it almost immediately.

This was the zither I had used at the Prince of Jin’s flower festival years ago—the one I had used to perform in place of Lan Nianhua and become famous overnight.

I was puzzled. How did this instrument end up here?

It felt as if I had been transported back to that year, the day I first met Qin Yiheng. My fingers slowly plucked the strings, and a melody began to flow.

I didn’t notice that Yuwen Zhao, who had been sitting across from me looking lazy and relaxed, suddenly stiffened, staring at me in disbelief.

Before the final note of the piece could fade, he lunged forward and grabbed my wrist. The zither fell to the ground with a sharp, jarring twang.

I looked up at him in shock, only to see a brilliant light in his eyes. His breathing was ragged as he stammered, “It was you… the person playing that day, it was actually you!”

“I kept wondering why she never played in public again… so it was because she couldn’t…” he muttered to himself.

Then, he told me a story.

Yuwen Zhao was indeed a reclusive genius. That year, his master had died abroad. Overcome with grief, he had descended the mountain in a daze to collect the body, only to hear the sound of a zither outside the Prince of Jin’s estate.

It was “Ode to the Bright Moon,” peaceful and soothing. Yuwen Zhao’s chaotic thoughts gradually cleared, and thanks to that, his cultivation reached a new level of clarity.

Because he was in such a rush, he had only managed to ask around and was told it was the young lady of the Lan household playing.

I never expected such a twist of fate between Yuwen Zhao and me.

I was stunned. “So, when you heard that Lan Nianhua was the one who became famous at the flower festival, you just assumed it was her.”

Yuwen Zhao’s expression was complex. He finally looked at me with a gentle smile. “It’s a good thing fate led me to you, otherwise I would never have found peace.”

Yuwen Zhao had wanted to trade the imperial throne for a chance—a chance to help Lan Nianhua escape her destiny as an Empress.

But in the end, fate could not be defied; she still married Qin Yiheng.

For a moment, I couldn’t quite tell what kind of man he really was.

But as I looked up at him, I saw that his brows had smoothed out.

I found myself affected by his emotions…

His features were as delicate as a painting, and he was smiling faintly at me. I wondered in a daze: if I hadn’t been reborn, would Yuwen Zhao have spent his whole life trapped in regret?

At that thought, my heart gave a sharp, painful tug.

Yuwen Zhao took the zither down from the wall. As my fingers slowly brushed over the instrument, I recognized it immediately.

This was the very zither I had used years ago at the Prince Jin’s manor flower festival—the one I had used to make a name for myself while performing in Lan Nianhua’s stead.

I was bewildered. How did this zither end up here?

It felt as if I had returned to that year, to the day I first met Qin Yiheng. My fingers slowly plucked the strings, and the music began to flow.

What I didn’t see was that Yuwen Zhao, who had been sitting lazily across from me, suddenly jolted, staring at me in disbelief.

Before the final note of the piece could fall, he abruptly grabbed my wrist. The zither fell to the floor with a sharp twang.

I looked up at him in shock, only to see a brilliant light in his eyes. His breathing was uneven. “It was you! The person playing the zither that year… it was actually you!”

“I wondered why she never played in public again. It turns out she simply couldn’t…” he muttered to himself.

Then, I heard a story.

Yuwen Zhao was indeed a rare genius. That year, his master had died abroad. Overwhelmed by grief, he had wandered down the mountain in a daze to collect the body, only to hear a strain of zither music outside Prince Jin’s manor.

It was the “Ode to the Bright Moon,” peaceful and soothing. Yuwen Zhao’s chaotic thoughts had gradually cleared, and thanks to that music, his internal state had reached a level of profound clarity.

Because he was in a hurry, he only had time to ask who was playing and was told it was the young lady of the Lan household.

I never imagined that Yuwen Zhao and I shared such a connection.

I was stunned. “And so, when you later heard that Lan Nianhua had become famous overnight at the flower festival, you assumed it was her.”

Yuwen Zhao’s expression was complex. Finally, he looked at me with a warm smile. “It’s a good thing fate brought us together like this. Otherwise, I would have lived with that regret for the rest of my life.”

Yuwen Zhao had wanted to use the throne as a trade, to buy an opportunity—a chance for Lan Nianhua to escape her Phoenix destiny.

But in the end, the mandate of heaven could not be defied, and she still married Qin Yiheng.

What kind of person was he, really? For a moment, I couldn’t quite see him clearly.

But when I looked up at him, I noticed that his brow had finally relaxed.

I found myself being swayed by his emotions…

His features were as beautiful as a painting as he smiled slightly at me. In a daze, I wondered: if I hadn’t been reborn, would Yuwen Zhao have spent his entire life brooding and restless?

At that thought, my heart actually twinged with pain.

Yuwen Zhao took the zither down from the wall. As I slowly brushed my fingers over its body, I recognized it instantly.

This was the very zither I had used years ago at the Prince of Jin’s flower festival—the one I had played to win fame on Lan Nianhua’s behalf.

I was puzzled. How did it end up here?

It felt as if I had been transported back to that year, to the day I first met Qin Yiheng. My fingers slowly plucked the strings, and the music began to flow.

I didn’t notice that Yuwen Zhao, who had been lounging lazily across from me, suddenly stiffened, staring at me in sheer disbelief.

Before the final note could fade, he suddenly seized my wrist. The zither fell to the floor with a sharp, discordant twang.

I looked up at him in shock, only to see a brilliant light in his eyes. His breathing was ragged. “It was you… the one playing that year, it was actually you!”

“I wondered why she never played in public again. It turns out she simply couldn’t…” he murmured to himself.

And then, he told me a story.

Yuwen Zhao was indeed a once-in-a-generation genius. That year, his master had died away from home. Overwhelmed by grief, he had descended the mountain in a daze to retrieve the body, only to hear the sound of a zither outside the Prince of Jin’s estate.

It was the “Ode to the Bright Moon,” peaceful and soothing. Yuwen Zhao’s chaotic thoughts had gradually cleared; he gained such clarity from it that even his spiritual state reached a new level of enlightenment.

In his haste to continue his journey, he only had time to ask who was playing, and was told it was the young lady of the Lan household.

I never imagined that Yuwen Zhao and I shared such a history.

I was stunned. “And later, when you heard that Lan Nianhua had become famous for her performance at the flower festival, you assumed it was her.”

Yuwen Zhao’s expression was a whirlwind of emotions. Finally, he looked at me with a gentle smile. “It’s a good thing fate brought us together after all. Otherwise, I would have been haunted by this for the rest of my life.”

Yuwen Zhao had been willing to trade the throne itself for a chance—a chance to free Lan Nianhua from her “Phoenix Destiny.”

But in the end, fate could not be defied, and she still married Qin Yiheng.

What kind of man was he, truly? In this moment, I found him impossible to read.

Yet, when I looked up at him, I saw that the tension in his brow had finally smoothed away.

To my surprise, I found my own emotions being swayed by his…

His features were as beautiful as a painting as he smiled softly at me. A dazed thought crossed my mind: if I hadn’t been reborn, would Yuwen Zhao have spent his entire life consumed by this unfulfilled longing?

At that thought, my heart actually began to ache.