Under The Bamboo Parasol 38 A Beautiful Instrumen

She was wearing only a thin white robe, sitting in the cold night. Her hair was held up with a simple wooden hairpin, her eyes were staring blankly down at her fingers which were flicking away at the instrument that was on the table. Blood was starting to drip from the strings, onto the beautiful amber wood.

She was sitting with her back straight in a mahogany chair with a matching table that had a guqin on it, the instrument was made of fragrant wood. The table had a small incense burner on it, and the scent of sandalwood rose with the transparent white smoke, disappearing within the night. Madam Lin had been playing this instrument for almost three consecutive days, her body was nearly reaching its limit, but she kept on playing. Her bloodied fingers were crazily flicking at the strings of the instrument.

The music was bold and aggressive, like the sound of a send off to war. It was indeed a beautiful piece and one that was hard to master. The music continued to play, it was as if the person playing did not want to slow down. The music only sounded in the manor, not even having the chance to reach the ears of people beyond the manor.

Outside, the manor, there was a brown falcon spreading its wings and souring the cold night. It was a beautiful bird, that was strong and powerful, the wind and ice were blowing up like a blizzard, but it still pushed through the harsh weather, flapping its wings even more powerful than the last time. Seemingly mesmerized by the tune.

The servants stayed quiet, pretending to not have heard the tune. They did not dare praise it openly, nor judge her actions. They went on with their daily duties as always.

The only person that ever dared to deny her request came to take a look at her out of worry.

"Madam, you should stop before you hurt yourself." Mister Song gently chided her as his eyes looked down at her bloodied fingers that were plucking on the strings.
Find authorized novels in Webnovel，faster updates, better experience，Please click for visiting.

There was no sound from Madam Lin as she continued to pluck at the strings, her eyes overtaken by an empty gaze. Perhaps she did not hear him.

Seeing Madam Lin in this state of mind, mister Song found it unsettling, as he watched her continue to play the same piece over and over again.

"Madam, your hands will be ruined if you continue this." He said something else.

The woman again did not answer, the fingers that were dripping in blood continued to stroke the instrument.

"Forgive me, Madam." Mister Song muttered under his breath as he pressed on the acupoint at the base of her neck and she collapsed in exhaustion, falling into his arms.

He reached for her forehead, finding her body to be ice cold, after all, all she was wearing was a thin robe. It was snowing outside, no matter how powerful her inner energy was, it should have depleted by now.

He gave a sigh, carrying her to the bed, where he ordered servants to prepare some water and medicine, to which he carefully treated her wounds and tucked her into bed.

He saw to that she was well taken care of as he looked upon her face that was as pale as paper laying on the bed.

[How cruel he was to you, and yet you still suffer thinking about him.]

There was a serene calmness in Mister Song's eyes as he walked from the bedroom, gently closing the doors behind him. His mind was in deep thought at this moment as he walked through the scenery of fake mountains and the frozen pond that lay beneath his feet.

[Dear child, if not for that bet you had with your master, perhaps to this day you would be living happily in Ruan w.a.n.g manor, neither you nor that foolish boy would have to bear the pain or guilt of such sufferings.]

Mister Song stood on the bridge, watching the frozen pond that had now been topped off by a thick layer of snow, everything looked so solid, that a person would not know what lied beneath the snow was once a lively colony of fish when spring came.

[You should know that Master has a grasp on everything that happens in the world. A bet where you are the winner is simply impossible.]