novelAbuy Chapter 67 The Amazing Sword Dance
Chapter 67 The Amazing Sword Dance
Chapter 67 The Amazing Sword Dance
As noon approached, more and more guests arrived, and the front courtyard gradually became crowded. Elegant attire and glimpses of distinguished guests filled the air, along with the sounds of greetings and clinking glasses.
Seeing that Yan Dan had not arrived yet, Zhao decided to accept Xue Gong's invitation and head towards the main hall.
But as soon as he took a step, he heard a commotion ahead.
Zhao Heng turned around and saw a group of people walking towards the gate of the mansion. The one in the lead had white hair and beard and a serious face; he was none other than Lord Pingyang, Zhao Bao. Behind him were several members of the Zhao royal family, each with an extraordinary bearing and appearing to be a person of considerable importance.
In an instant, guests in the corridors and courtyards stepped aside to make way, bowed, and addressed him as "Your Majesty." Some offered their blessings loudly, while others approached to chat, creating a lively and bustling scene.
Lord Pingyang kept his eyes straight ahead, walking with unhurried steps. Occasionally, he would nod slightly to a few familiar guests before leading his entourage straight towards the main hall. Wherever he passed, the crowd automatically parted, like waves being cleaved by the bow of a ship.
Zhao Heng stood outside the crowd, not pushing forward. Only after Lord Pingyang and his entourage had gone far away did he turn his gaze away. Just as he was about to say something to Lord Xue, he caught a glimpse of a group of people slowly walking towards the gate of the mansion.
The leader, dressed in a dark blue robe with a jade belt around his waist, exuded composure; he was none other than Lord Xinling, Wei Wuji.
Behind him were several retainers, one of whom was very recognizable. He was Zhu Hai, whom Zhao Heng had seen at Zuiyue Tower that day. He was broad-shouldered and had piercing eyes. Another man had white hair that was simply tied up with a wooden hairpin. He had an unruly look and was none other than Mao Gong.
The appearance of Lord Xinling caused an even greater sensation than that of Lord Pingyang. Guests in the corridors and courtyards rushed forward to pay their respects, and some exclaimed, "Your Majesty has long resided in Handan; how fortunate we are to see you today!"
Lord Xinling smiled, cupped his hands in greeting, exchanged a few pleasantries with the crowd, and then led his men toward the main hall.
Zhao Heng stood beside Lord Xue, watching from afar. Lord Xinling noticed him immediately, gave him a slight nod, but did not stop. Zhao Heng bowed in return, then waited for a moment. Seeing that Yan Dan and Zi Nu were still nowhere to be seen, he turned and went into the hall.
The main hall is spacious and can accommodate nearly a hundred people at the same time.
The beams and pillars stand tall, and the curtains hang low. The host's seat is set in the center, with tables arranged on both sides according to the guests' status.
Each table was set with tableware, including lacquered bowls, bronze tripods, and ceramic cups. Steam rose from the tripods, carrying the subtle aroma of meat mixed with the scents of wine and fruit, filling the hall and whetting the appetite.
Zhao Heng's seat was on the left, near the front, next to several members of the Zhao royal family.
Mao Sui, as the steward of Lord Pingyuan's household, had already taken his leave to attend to other matters. The other guests were seated at the back, so Zhao could only bid farewell to Lord Xue and take his seat alone.
As he sat down, several members of the imperial clan looked over.
These people were all sons of nobles, but in terms of status and position, they were all far inferior to Zhao Heng. However, they were all much older than him, so their expressions towards Zhao Heng varied. Some were curious, some scrutinized, and some even showed a hint of avoidance.
Zhao Heng took the initiative to greet them and introduce himself. The people were quite surprised and hastily returned the greeting, but their attitude was clearly quite cold.
Zhao Heng naturally didn't mind; he simply straightened his sleeves and sat down calmly.
As soon as he sat down, he noticed that Zhao Bao, the Prince of Pingyang, who was holding a wine cup and talking quietly with an elder member of the royal family on the right-hand side of the main guest seat, looked in his direction after being reminded by someone.
When Lord Pingyang saw Zhao Heng, he actually smiled and nodded slightly in greeting.
Zhao Heng's behavior in the palace that day clearly left a deep impression on the old man.
Although he found it a bit cumbersome, Zhao still quickly bowed and prepared to get up and go over to pay his respects.
Lord Pingyang waved his hand gently, indicating that he didn't need to come over.
Zhao Heng steadied himself and merely bowed slightly at the table as a gesture of greeting.
Lord Pingyang nodded slightly, then turned back to continue talking to the person beside him, occasionally glancing at Zhao Heng while stroking his beard and laughing, seemingly discussing the matter of this prince. The person beside him nodded repeatedly and also glanced in Zhao Heng's direction.
Several members of the imperial clan looked at each other for a moment. Some picked up their wine cups and took a sip to hide their unease; some lowered their heads and pretended to straighten their clothes; and one older man forced a smile at Zhao Heng, which was a little stiff but much better than his previous indifference.
Some of them seemed to want to strike up a conversation, but in the end they just turned their faces away and whispered to the people on the other side.
Lost in thought, Zhao Heng picked up the ceramic cup on the table and took a sip. The cup contained honey water, which was sweet and refreshing, but he didn't drink any more after that. Instead, he called a maid and asked her to bring him a cup of plain water.
During this time, he finally saw Yan Dan arrive late. Although the latter was able to sit in the main hall because of the apparent reconciliation between Yan and Zhao, he was ultimately a foreign hostage, and his seat was actually quite far back. He could only smile and nod to Zhao Heng from afar as a greeting.
Zhao Heng nodded and sat upright, awaiting the start of the banquet. But then he heard a slight commotion behind him.
He turned around and saw a group of people entering through a side door.
Leading the group was a woman in purple robes with a light veil covering her face. She was tall and slender, with light steps and a trailing skirt, like a moving purple cloud.
As she passed by, she attracted many people's attention, their eyes following her figure and lingering for a long time. Behind her were several musicians dressed as musicians, each carrying an instrument, and several servants carrying boxes, all bowing and following her instructions to sit behind the curtain.
The chest was opened, revealing items such as chime bells and zithers, which gleamed warmly in the candlelight.
A member of the imperial clan whispered beside him, "Is this the new manager of Zuiyue Tower? He's only this young."
However, she does seem quite beautiful. I've heard this woman has a mysterious background and some connection to the Korean royal family—"
Another person said, "Not only that, I've also heard that she has a connection with the late Queen Wei. She was in charge of the music and dance for Lord Pingyuan's birthday banquet this time."
At this point, he lowered his voice, a hint of ambiguity in his smile: "Tsk tsk tsk, marrying this woman would be a good deal."
The two then chuckled knowingly to each other.
Zhao Heng listened quietly, his expression unchanged.
While Zi Nu was arranging the musicians opposite, her beautiful eyes suddenly glanced in his direction. Their eyes met briefly in mid-air before parting again. She blinked once, then casually looked away, as if it were just an unintentional glance.
"Hey, she seems to have glanced at me." The voice behind me suddenly rose a few decibels, filled with barely suppressed excitement.
"You're seeing things, aren't you? Aren't you ashamed? You think you're worthy?" the other person sneered, but there was a hint of defiance in his tone.
As Zhao Heng listened to the argument between the two, he remembered that Zi Nu had only said that Zuiyue Tower had taken on the job of music and dance, but he did not expect that she had entrusted the entire job to her. After all, no matter what, as one of the four princes, Lord Pingyuan should not be without his own dancers and musicians in his household.
It seems her arrangements in Lord Pingyuan's residence were more elaborate than I had imagined.
The guests gradually took their seats, and the hall slowly quieted down. The steam from the cauldron continued to rise in wisps, but no one spoke or laughed loudly anymore.
A moment later, footsteps came from behind the screen. An elderly man with gray hair and beard spoke in hushed tones with Lord Xinling, and slowly walked out, accompanied by Mao Sui and Zhu Hai.
Zhao Zheng straightened his expression. If he wasn't mistaken, this person was Lord Pingyuan, Zhao Sheng.
He was over sixty years old, looked quite thin, with deep-set eyes and prominent cheekbones. Only his eyes still looked slightly sharp and bright, like two lamps that were about to go out.
At that moment, hundreds of guests, both inside and outside the hall, rose in unison, bowed, and shouted in unison, "Wishing Your Majesty a long and healthy birthday, and may your blessings be everlasting!"
Lord Pingyuan gestured for everyone to sit down, coughed, and then pressed his hands down, saying, "I am an old man suffering from illness, and I have troubled you all to wait for so long. Today I have prepared a small feast to liven things up, so please do not stand on ceremony."
Having said that, he spread his sleeves and took his seat in the main seat.
Zhao Heng sat down with the others.
The gift-giving began. Envoys from various countries and dignitaries from Handan stepped forward in turn to present birthday gifts and recite congratulatory messages.
The list of gifts was long and full of exquisite items, but Zhao Heng listened absentmindedly. However, he was actually quite interested in this kind of etiquette from the Warring States period, since it was not just words on bamboo slips, but a vivid and real scene.
After the birthday celebration, because Lord Pingyuan was unwell, the host's speech was waived. Instead, Mao Sui presided over the wine-offering ceremony, after which Lord Pingyuan raised his cup. Everyone drank together, the clinking of cups producing a clear, bell-like sound.
Then, the servants served the guests in turn. The meat in the cauldron was sliced thinly and placed in lacquered bowls on each person's table. Zhao Heng's portion was pork, a rich, dark brown sauce with a fragrant aroma. He picked up a slice and tasted it; the meat was tender and melted in his mouth.
After several rounds of drinks, the atmosphere gradually became lively. Laughter and toasts rose and fell, and the steam from the pot mingled with the warmth of the people, making the hall cozy and inviting.
Taking this opportunity, Zhao Yan, who was already slightly intoxicated, suddenly stood up, cupped his hands to Lord Pingyuan, and said loudly, "On Your Majesty's birthday, I have prepared a small gift. I dare not presume to give it to you, and I hope Your Majesty will accept it with a smile."
Lord Pingyuan nodded slightly: "Your Highness is very thoughtful."
Zhao Yan clapped his hands.
Outside the hall, twelve dancers filed in. They were all dressed in light white dance costumes, the fabric as thin as cicada wings, holding silk flowers in their hands. Their faces were covered by light veils, revealing only their eyes.
Their dance costumes fluttered gently with their steps, shimmering in the sunlight like a flowing rosy glow, or like a group of fairies descending from the clouds.
Zhao Heng picked up the glass of water from the table and casually surveyed the scene.
As the dancers lined up, he suddenly felt a gaze come from the dancers' ranks and quickly sweep over him.
The feeling was very subtle, as if someone had glanced at him unintentionally, or as if they were deliberately scrutinizing him. But when he focused his attention to capture it, the gaze had already disappeared without a trace. If he hadn't cultivated the Ghost Valley Breathing Technique to its current level and his six senses were far superior to ordinary people, he probably wouldn't have noticed it at all.
His brow twitched slightly as his gaze swept over the twelve dancers. Their faces were veiled, revealing only pairs of bright, sparkling eyes, making it impossible to discern whose gaze was coming from.
Zhao Heng frowned slightly, but did not search for it further. Since the other party did not want to be discovered, he would pretend not to know and simply picked up the water on the table and took a small sip.
Music began. The zither played clear and resonant notes, the flute played softly and melodiously, and the dancers moved to the music. Their dance was graceful and their movements were synchronized, like a spring breeze rustling willows, like flowing water, like petals falling.
Twelve figures spun, intersected, and scattered in the hall, while silk flowers drew arcs in the air, sometimes gathering into a giant flower, sometimes scattering into a sky full of stars.
The music quickened. The dancers' movements accelerated accordingly, twirling, scattering, and gathering, their skirts fluttering like butterfly wings. The music then shifted to a rapid section, like a sudden downpour on banana leaves, like a stampede of horses. Suddenly, the twelve dancers dispersed, their silk flowers fluttering like butterflies, falling in a flurry.
To be honest, this dance wasn't much better than the music and dance arranged by Zi Nu, but it was well-rehearsed and had a grand scale, making it quite pleasing to the eye. Many guests were captivated by it.
However, just as the music reached its most intense moment, one of the dancers suddenly spun out from the crowd, then reached down to her waist and pulled out something.
It was a soft sword. The blade was as thin as a cicada's wing, and it gleamed with a cold light under the light, like a streak of cold lightning.
The longsword was drawn from its sheath, the blade trembling slightly and emitting a faint hum.
A soft gasp immediately escaped someone's lips in the hall. Zhu Hai, standing behind Lord Xinling, also leaned forward slightly, his gaze locked onto the woman like a hawk's, his right hand unconsciously resting on his waist, where, though there was nothing there, his posture instantly shifted to one of alertness.
Several guests near the seats unconsciously leaned back and held their breath.
Lord Xinling raised his hand and waved it gently. Zhu Hai glanced at him, steadied himself, but his tiger-like eyes remained wide open, fixed on the sword in the woman's hand.
After drawing her soft sword, the woman spun around with lightning speed. Her dance costume billowed, and the sword flashed like a bolt of lightning, tracing silvery arcs across the hall. The other dancers scattered and retreated behind the curtain, instantly making her the sole focus of attention.
This woman's sword dance was sharp and graceful, her figure as light as a swallow, and the sword light flashing like snow.
She would sometimes spin, her sword following her movements, silver light swirling around her; sometimes she would leap, her sword pointing to the sky, like a white rainbow piercing the sun; sometimes she would bend down, the tip of her sword touching the ground, her whole being blooming like a lotus flower, her dance costume spreading out on the ground.
Most remarkably, her sword dance and the music of her zither were perfectly synchronized; when the sword dance began, the music of her zither would suddenly become rapid, like the clash of swords and the thunder of horses.
As the sword's momentum subsided, the sound of the flute softened, like moonlight and water.
It combines strength and gentleness seamlessly, as if the sword were not held in one's hand, but rather grew out of the music.
Everyone in the hall watched intently. The tension that had arisen earlier because of the sword being drawn was gradually replaced by admiration. People cheered softly from time to time, some forgot to drink when they raised their wine cups to their lips, and some forgot to eat the meat they picked up with their chopsticks.
Lord Xinling put down his wine cup, his expression unchanged, merely nodding slightly as if appreciating a rare piece of elegant music. Lord Pingyuan, in the main seat, leaned slightly forward and said something to him. Lord Xinling smiled but did not respond, his gaze remaining fixed on the dancer.
Seeing this, Zhao Yan felt a surge of pride, glanced back at Guo Kai, and gave him a satisfied look. The latter bowed slightly, a smile playing on his lips, but something flashed quickly in his eyes.
Zhao Heng sat at the table, holding a wine cup, his attention also focused on the scene.
He watched intently, not entirely for appreciation, but because Zi Nu had mentioned a few days ago that Zhao Yan had prepared a musical performance for this birthday banquet, which was said to have taken a lot of effort, and this woman was the main character that Zhao Yan had prepared for this occasion.
He couldn't be sure if the fleeting feeling he'd just experienced came from this woman. But since she was the center of attention, he could openly look at her.
Her sword dance was certainly spectacular, but Zhao Heng was looking at something else. Some subtle details often revealed more about a person's background than a face.
However, the woman was indeed very well hidden, and Zhao Heng couldn't see anything different about her.
Sword dance itself is the best disguise; all movements can be explained as a necessity of the dance, and all changes in force can be concealed by music and aesthetics.
Until a certain moment.
As she spun to face him, she made a low, bowing motion, the tip of her sword touching the ground, her entire body blooming like a lotus flower, her dance robes spreading out. In this movement, she raised her head, her eyes naturally following the dance, sweeping across the seats opposite her.
In just a moment.
Those eyes peeking out from under the light veil suddenly met Zhao Heng's gaze.
Her eyes were now brimming with a smile, naturally charming, like spring water reflecting peach blossoms. But in that instant, the smile seemed to freeze for a very brief moment, as if she was somewhat surprised that Zhao Heng had been able to catch her intention.
Zhao Heng narrowed his eyes slightly.
That rainy day, a woman holding an oil-paper umbrella brushed past him on the street. She slightly raised the umbrella, revealing an unremarkable face and a pair of eyes as empty and cold as a deep pool.
The smiling eyes before him were completely different from the empty eyes of that day. Yet Zhao Heng was almost certain that they were the same pair of eyes.
And it was obvious that she recognized him too.
The ordinary boy in brown clothes sitting in the ordinary car.
That brief moment of stillness is the evidence.
But both of them quickly regained their composure. The woman's gaze slid past Zhao, continuing to follow his dance moves naturally. Zhao Heng also picked up the water on the table, took a sip, and concealed the thoughts in his eyes.
When the music ended, the entire hall erupted in cheers. Applause and exclamations of praise surged forth like thunder.
The woman sheathed her sword and bowed gracefully. Her face was veiled by a light veil, revealing only a pair of smiling, charming yet dignified eyes.
Zhao Yan, with a smug look on his face, bowed to Lord Pingyuan and asked, "What does Your Majesty think?"
Lord Pingyuan nodded slightly, a smile appearing on his aged face: "Your dance is quite remarkable. Who is this woman?"
Zhao Yan smiled and said, "This woman is an extraordinary person I discovered by chance. Not only is her sword dance superb, but she is also knowledgeable in music and skilled in playing the zither. Today, I have specially asked her to perform a dance to celebrate Your Majesty's birthday. If Your Majesty does not mind—"
Lord Pingyuan waved his hand, looked at Lord Xinling, and smiled, "Wuji, you have always been fond of music, yet you often lament the difficulty of finding a kindred spirit. I have observed this woman's sword dance, a perfect blend of strength and grace, which is truly rare. In my opinion, why not let her stay by your side to accompany you in your dances?"
Upon hearing this, Lord Xinling pondered for a moment, his gaze falling on the woman. After a brief pause, he nodded and said, "Your Majesty's kind offer is beyond my ability to refuse."
Seeing this, Lord Pingyuan looked at Zhao Yan and smiled, "Young Master Yan, what do you think?"
Zhao Yan was overjoyed and immediately bowed at his seat, saying, "This woman was originally intended to be offered to Your Majesty, but Your Majesty can decide for her. If she can truly gain the favor of Lord Xinling, it will be her good fortune."
Lord Xinling nodded slightly to him as a way of thanking him.
A chorus of congratulations immediately erupted from the banquet hall. One guest raised his cup and said, "Congratulations to Lord Xinling on acquiring such a remarkable woman!" Another chimed in, "This woman is an unparalleled swordswoman and dancer, a perfect match for Your Majesty."
Lord Xinling smiled and returned the greeting, accepting the wine cup offered by the servant and taking a small sip.
After everyone quieted down, Lord Xinling looked at the woman and asked, "Are you truly skilled in playing the zither?"
The woman lowered her head and said, "I know a little, but I dare not claim to know more."
This was her first time speaking, and her voice was indeed very clear and pleasant, with a certain humility and composure. She was neither obsequious nor timid, making people want to see what kind of face was hidden under the veil.
Lord Xinling then said, "Then I will play a piece for Lord Pingyuan to enhance the drinking experience."
The woman responded, rose, and knelt down behind a zither table. A servant had already set up a seven-stringed zither. She raised her hand to test the sound, and with a light pluck of her fingers, several clear notes flowed out.
The hall gradually quieted down.
Zhao Heng held his cup, propped his cheek on his hand, and looked at the woman with great interest.
She lowered her eyes, her fingers gliding gracefully across the strings of the zither, a stark contrast to the fierce swordplay she had displayed moments before. The zither music was melodious, a piece called "Deer's Cry," its gentle tune like a spring breeze across a field, or a stream flowing over a rocky shore. Completely different from her sword dance, yet equally captivating.
Zhao Heng scrutinized her closely.
Her slender figure was draped in a light white dance costume, her shoulders and back with soft lines, a far cry from the silhouette I had glimpsed under the wide cloth skirt in the rain that day. A light veil covered her face, obscuring her entire features, but the skin on her eyebrows, eyes, and forehead that were visible was fair and delicate, completely different from the plain, dark-skinned face of that day.
But Zhao Heng was almost certain that it was the same person.
That day in the rain, in the instant the umbrella was slightly raised, those empty, cold eyes, and the moment their gazes met during the dance, there was something consistent with them—something indescribable, yet undeniably real.
But at that moment, those eyes never looked at him again.
The woman focused intently on the strings, her gaze fixed on the instrument. Occasionally, she would glance up, either at Lord Pingyuan in the main seat or in the direction of Lord Xinling. She seemed completely oblivious to the brief eye contact they had just exchanged, as if Zhao were merely an insignificant figure among the many guests in the hall.
But Zhao Heng knew that she had already remembered him.
Just as he had already remembered her.
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