Chapter 488: The Hidden Ancient Qin

Ningrong Street, Marquis Mansion, Jia Cong's Courtyard.

Autumn wind brought coolness, white clouds drifted across the sky; flowers and trees in the courtyard thrived, occasionally releasing faint fragrances.

As the sun reached its zenith, Jia Cong had completed his morning scripture practice; Wu'er led the maids in preparing lunch, and eight people in the courtyard gathered around to eat.

The maids cleared the bowls and chopsticks and chairs; Jia Cong strolled along the corridor when he saw Lin Daiyu enter the courtyard with Hearing Zi Juan.

Jia Cong smiled: "Little sister, what brings you here?"

Lin Daiyu smiled brightly: "I've just finished lunch too—I feared stagnation, so I came to visit Third Brother."

Jia Cong led Lin Daiyu to the study to sit and chat, then ordered Qingwen to bring warm tea.

After a few casual words, Jia Cong pointed to the ancient guqin hanging on the wall: "A few days ago, Master Zhang examined your pulse and happened to see this qin—he said it was a rare antique."

I have little knowledge of ancient qins; you've played since childhood—can you tell me what's special about it?"

In past years, the Eastern and Western Mansions produced nothing but dissolute, incompetent youths or men like Jia Zheng—dignified yet dull. Aside from Jia Yuanchun, who once played the qin, no one in the Jia family possessed the refined sensibility to appreciate music.

Even Tan Chun, so quick-witted and talented, never took up her elder sister's hobby; from childhood she loved calligraphy, not the qin.

Among all the young ladies of the household, only Lin Daiyu had learned the qin as a child in Yangzhou.

This ancient qin left by Jia Cong's mother had once hung in the Eastern Wing's storage room, as obscure as Jia Cong himself—no one ever paid it any mind.

After Jia Cong moved into the Western Mansion's Qingzhi Studio, the visitors were all family sisters; even if they noticed it, time passed and they grew blind to it.

Though no one in the Jia household played the qin, hanging one as decoration was common—Jia Baoyu's room had one, and Jia Zheng's room had several—merely for show…

Lin Daiyu laughed: "Third Brother's teacher's wife, Madam Cui, is a famed qin master of the Great Zhou—Third Brother learned your master's skills, yet never picked up your teacher's wife's art. You hang a rare treasure on the wall and don't recognize it."

Jia Cong smiled: "I'm dull—please, little sister, instruct me."

Lin Daiyu said: "When I first saw this qin in Qingzhi Studio, I sensed it was extraordinary. I heard Wu'er say it was your late aunt's only remaining possession, always beside you."

I was curious, but dared not touch it—you never mentioned it, so I never pressed further."

Jia Cong smiled, took the qin from the wall, and placed it on the desk: "You understand—please examine it. What makes it extraordinary?"

Lin Daiyu caressed the ancient qin; though hung daily on the wall, it was spotless. She smiled: "Though rarely played, it's kept clean."

Jia Cong smiled: "I told Zhi Shao this qin hung in the storage room all those years, growing up with me. Since then, she treasures it deeply—every day she dusts it with a brush."

Lin Daiyu said: "Perhaps Zhi Shao remembers those days in the storage room, and that's why she cares for it so much—it's possible."

Lin Daiyu gently stroked the qin's body; its surface felt warm and smooth. A light pluck of the strings released a clear, metallic, springlike tone—melodious, lingering, never fading.

Lin Daiyu smiled: "Third Brother's qin has an extraordinary tone—truly exceptional."

With that, she felt inspired, sat down before Jia Cong's desk, and with slender fingers plucked the silk strings. The music rose like flowing clouds and water—softly pressing, slowly twisting, brushing, then plucking again.

Slowly, she played "High Mountains and Flowing Water." The melody curled through the air, elegant and pure. In the courtyard, Zhi Shao, Qingwen, and others paused their tasks, all leaning in to listen.

Lingguan, trained in opera and music, was far more sensitive to sound than ordinary people. She couldn't resist running into the study, dragging over a small stool, sitting beside Lin Daiyu, chin propped on her hand, lost in rapture.

Jia Cong watched Lin Daiyu's posture as she played—calm, elegant, peerlessly graceful—as if a celestial immortal had descended. He could not tear his eyes away.

Long moments passed. When Lin Daiyu finished, her lips curved in quiet delight, clearly satisfied. Turning, she saw Jia Cong staring at her—her cheeks flushed faintly.

She playfully scolded: "Third Brother, why are you staring at me like that?"

Jia Cong laughed: "I never imagined you were not only beautiful but also possessed such a rare talent. Your playing is unmatched—how could I not look?"

Lin Daiyu smiled: "Third Brother's become quite the charmer—flattery rolls off your tongue so easily. Is this 'unmatched' praise spoken only to me?"

Jia Cong said: "Do you think you're not unmatched? I speak truly."

Lin Daiyu turned, eyes twinkling, to Lingguan: "Little sister, when you were in Jinling with Third Brother, did he ever flatter others like this?"

Lingguan's cheeks flushed. Suddenly, she recalled Zou Min and that night in Su Zhou—she stammered: "Lady, don't think too much—there's nothing to it."

…

Lin Daiyu smiled faintly, dismissing it, then said to Jia Cong: "Third Brother, this qin left by your aunt is truly excellent—I've never played a finer one."

Lin Daiyu called Hearing Zi Juan outside: "Hearing Zi Juan, go to the third shelf of my bookcase, fifth book from the left—the one titled 'Records of Zhang Yuzhen of Longxi.' Bring it to me."

When Hearing Zi Juan returned with the book, Jia Cong saw its pages were ancient, clearly many years old.

Lin Daiyu opened the book, flipping through as she spoke: "Third Brother, this 'Records of Zhang Yuzhen of Longxi' is a Tang-era miscellany, printed in the Song dynasty as a unique edition."

It contains many anecdotes about Tang and Song qins. When I learned the qin as a child, my father specially sought it out and gave it to me."

This qin left by your aunt has an ancient, unusual shape, quite different from modern yaoqins—I've seen something similar in this book."

Jia Cong saw Lin Daiyu turn to a page with drawings of ancient qins, front and back—their shapes nearly identical to his own.

Jia Cong took the book and read: "Among Tang qins, the Longxi Chen family leads—ninety-nine strings, ingenious lacquerwork, as if crafted by ghosts and gods…"

Lin Daiyu said: "Third Brother's qin is ancient, its wood, carving, and lacquer top-tier—exactly matching the Tang qins in the records. It's almost certainly a rare Tang qin."

Such treasures are treasured as priceless heirlooms by qin masters—never lightly given away, always passed down through generations. This qin must be your aunt's ancestral heirloom."

I've often heard rumors about your aunt. Though her origins were humble, she carried such a treasure—your mother's lineage must have been extraordinary."

Hearing Lin Daiyu's words, Jia Cong gazed at the ancient qin, his thoughts turning inward.

His mother had been only a courtesan, of lowly status—how could she possess such a rare antique?

Two years ago, after his achievements in Jinling, Emperor Emperor Jia Zhao posthumously honored his mother, Du Du Jinniang, as a fifth-rank noblewoman. Jia Cong had spent much effort investigating her past in the capital—but found nothing.

This mystery had long lingered in his mind; now Lin Daiyu's words stirred it again. He pondered long, yet still found no clue.

But Lin Daiyu's 'Records of Zhang Yuzhen of Longxi,' filled with curious qin anecdotes, proved fascinating. The two sat side by side at the desk, reading together.

The afternoon autumn sun was warm; the ancient book exuded scholarly charm; the qin emitted a quiet, lingering tone. Their figures leaned close, cheeks nearly touching, subtle fragrance drifting—peaceful, serene.

…

Following the book's clues, they turned the qin over and over, comparing its features—finding great pleasure in the pursuit.

On the qin's underside, ancient seal script carved two characters: "Anxiang." No other inscriptions.

This qin had been beside Jia Cong for years—he knew the carving was there. Qins often bore inscriptions; he'd never given it thought.

Now, bright autumn sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the desk—and the qin's underside with perfect clarity.

Due to its age, the lacquer on the qin's underside was a dark red-purple. At first glance, it seemed uniform.

But Lin Daiyu, meticulous by nature, sensed something odd. She turned the qin's underside toward the sunlight, adjusting angles, studying closely.

"Third Brother, the underside is strange. From afar, it's one color—but under sunlight, some areas are lighter, others darker."

"The lighter patches look like brushstrokes."

Jia Cong followed Lin Daiyu's guidance, peering into the sunlight—indeed, some spots were faintly lighter.

Under ordinary indoor light, these differences were invisible. Only now, by chance, did the sunlight reveal them.

Their heads close together, they studied the underside. The lighter patches resembled brushstrokes—but the characters remained illegible. After a while, they found no pattern.

Perhaps from prolonged exposure to autumn sunlight, the underside warmed slightly. Lin Daiyu sniffed delicately: "Third Brother, it's fragrant—like rouge."

Jia Cong also caught a faint, exquisite sweet fragrance. Unconsciously, he leaned in and sniffed near Lin Daiyu's cheek.

Lin Daiyu blushed and pushed him away: "Third Brother, you're mistaken—it's not from me. It's from the qin's underside."

Jia Cong smiled, leaned closer to the qin's underside—the fragrance grew clearer.

In his past life, he'd been born into a family of painting and calligraphy restorers; he knew a few secrets of antiques. He examined the underside under sunlight.

He plucked a hairpin from Lin Daiyu's hair and gently scraped the lighter areas. After a few strokes, black-red powder flaked off.

The powder was fine—not wood shavings, not lacquer. Jia Cong dipped his finger in tea water, rubbed the powder between his fingers—it turned a vivid red, the fragrance richer.

Lin Daiyu, raised in a noble household, knew well the cosmetics women used daily—her certainty deepened.

She said: "Third Brother, this is high-quality rouge—no doubt. Someone used it to fill the carving, and over time it hardened into black-red, matching the lacquer."

Jia Cong said to Lingguan: "Lingguan, bring me a bowl of hot water. Then wait outside the door—no one is to enter."

Lingguan looked puzzled, unsure of his intent, but fetched hot water and stepped outside, closing the door, then sat obediently on the steps.

Jia Cong steamed the qin's underside with the hot water. The previously lighter areas absorbed moisture and turned slightly crimson—clearly revealing the full characters.

He used Lin Daiyu's hairpin to scrape away all the hardened rouge from the crimson patches—immediately, several lines of clear script appeared.

"By the General Xuanwu, atop the Fallen Phoenix Peak, united in beauty, generations of sorrow. Heaven's fate cannot conceal the hidden fragrance; life and death entwined, virtue serene."

Lin Daiyu silently recited the lines. Though their meaning was obscure, a strange, lingering emotion stirred within her. She glanced at Jia Cong beside her—her cheeks flushed.

"Third Brother, these lines are cryptic, yet after reading them several times, they haunt the mind. Who carved them? And why cover them with rouge—was it your aunt?"

Jia Cong stared at the characters. The rouge sealing them softened and darkened under heat—its age could not be ancient. This qin was his mother's relic; the rouge sealing the characters was surely her doing.

But why did she do it? Jia Cong said to Lin Daiyu: "Someone sealed these characters with rouge—they didn't want them seen. This is strange."

"You and I know—say nothing to others. Don't invite trouble."

Lin Daiyu nodded slightly, rose, left the study, and returned holding a dressing box filled with several pots of rouge.

Normally, Hearing Zi Juan could have fetched them—but she did it herself. These were likely all her rouges.

Jia Cong understood her intent without asking. He selected two darker rouges, used the hairpin to pick them up, and carefully resealed the characters.

Finally, he hung the qin back on the wall. In time, the sealed rouge would harden and darken—no one would notice the trace.

Jia Cong and Lin Daiyu gazed at the qin on the wall, lost in thought, when Lingguan's voice called from outside: "Third Master, the steward at the second gate reports—many soldiers have entered Ningrong Street and are heading toward the Western Mansion!"

…

Lady Rongguo Mansion, Rongqing Hall.

These days, Shi Shi Xiangyun had come to the Jia mansion intending to stay briefly with Seeing Yingchun in the Eastern Mansion.

But Jia Mu, having not seen her for months, and with Jia Baoyu still recovering indoors and unable to accompany her, insisted Shi Xiangyun stay with her—so they could talk and keep each other company.

That noon, Jia Mu first visited Jia Baoyu's room, instructed Xi Ren and the maids to care for him carefully, then had lunch with Shi Xiangyun.

Jia Mu, elderly, avoided naps to prevent insomnia at night. The grandmother and granddaughter sat idly in Rongqing Hall, about to send someone to the Eastern Mansion to summon Lin Daiyu and the other granddaughters.

Just then, Wang Lady arrived with Xue Xue Yima and Xue Baochai to pay respects. Jia Mu forgot her original plan; the group gathered, chatting pleasantly.

But Shi Xiangyun, young and restless, longed to visit the Eastern Mansion, to speak with Jia Cong and Seeing Yingchun—she could hardly sit still. Soon, lulled by Jia Mu and Wang Lady's chatter, she grew drowsy.

The atmosphere in Rongqing Hall was harmonious when suddenly, hurried footsteps and panicked voices echoed outside. Jia Mu and the others were startled.

Lin Lin Zhixiao's wife stumbled in, pale-faced: "Old Madam, disaster! Many soldiers have broken into the mansion!"

They claimed to be acting on the Emperor's imperial decree, to arrest and charge Bao Er Ye Jia Lady Lian; now the entire household is in chaos. My husband sent me in to warn you—the official troops have surrounded the main gate.

Jia Mu and the others were struck dumb with terror; the news was too horrifying—how could it come to this, with the entire household appearing ready for confiscation? How had Jia Lady Lian possibly committed such a crime?

Shi Xiangyun, who had been half-asleep moments before, jolted awake at the terrifying words, her large eyes darting back and forth.

She stepped forward, grasping Xue Baochai's pale face, and said: "Sister Bao, don't stay here. Let's go to the Eastern Mansion and seek help from Third Brother."

Xue Baochai's eyes lit up at once, and she followed Shi Xiangyun in hurried steps out of Rongqing Hall.

Jia Mu and Lady Wang were both trembling with fear; Xue Xue Yima's face turned ashen upon hearing the news.

Jia Zheng had gone to the office early this morning; now that Jia Lady Lian had fallen into trouble, there was not a single man in the household capable of handling it.

Jia Mu and the others were in panic, ordering Lin Lin Zhixiao to immediately send someone to summon Jia Zheng back home—but beyond that, they could think of no other solution.

It was Xue Xue Yima, quick-witted, who spoke up: "Old Madam, Jia Cong is also a man of official standing. We should call him here to deal with this. Such matters are beyond our women's capacity."

Only then did Jia Mu come to her senses and hurriedly ordered Sister Yuanyang to go to the Eastern Mansion and fetch Jia Cong. Only now did they realize Shi Xiangyun and Xue Baochai were missing from the hall.

Jia Mu's face darkened, her whole body swaying as if about to collapse. "The household is embroiled in legal trouble, in complete chaos—how could these two girls run about like this? What if they run into danger?"

Lady Wang immediately ordered Seeing Cai Xia to search for them, and ordered Yu Chuan to go to Jia Baoyu's quarters to watch over him. Servants rushed in and out, footsteps clattering everywhere—everything had become a complete mess.

…

Bo Jue Mansion, Jia Cong's courtyard.

Upon hearing Linguan's words, Jia Cong paused slightly in thought—he had suspected this would happen.

Many soldiers had entered Ningrong Street—was the Lady Rongguo Mansion truly about to be seized? But upon deeper reflection, he found it illogical.

Lin Daiyu and the others, upon hearing Linguan's words, all wore expressions of shock and uncertainty.

Jia Cong ordered Wu'er to go to the second gate and instruct the steward to seal the mansion gates—no one was to enter or leave.

He changed his clothes and headed for the Western Mansion. To ignore the crisis in the Western Mansion while staying safely in the Eastern Mansion would be improper—he could not avoid it either way.

As he reached the small gate between

Jia Cong was somewhat surprised to hear that the Embroidered Uniform Guard had come to arrest Jia Lady Lian, for according to the information he had, Jia Lady Lian had no involvement whatsoever.

The only explanation he could think of was that Jia She's smuggling of the stolen firearms from Liaodong had somehow ensnared Jia Lady Lian. Xue Baochai, upon hearing the news in Rongqing Hall, had been terrified, but now that she had come to the Eastern Mansion and seen Jia Cong, her nerves had finally settled.

At this moment, as she thought of the soldiers coming to seize Jia Lady Lian, a sudden insight flashed through her mind.

She said: "Brother Cong, last time my brother went to Datong on business, he told me something—but it's a sensitive matter, and I feared my brother might speak rashly, so I never dared mention it to you."

Now that I see soldiers coming to arrest Second Brother Lady Lian, I recall it—there must be some connection."

Jia Cong's expression changed. "Sister Bao, tell me quickly."

Xue Baochai said: "When my brother was doing business in Ping'an Prefecture, he heard from his contacts there that your eldest uncle shipped sea salt, tea, and iron pots to Datong and made a fortune."

Second Brother Lady Lian made several trips to Datong—he must have been sent by your eldest uncle to handle the transactions."

Hearing this, Jia Cong understood at once—he had completely forgotten this detail. Jia Lady Lian's trips to Ping'an Prefecture had always been genuine, and now everything made sense.

…

Jia Cong told Xue Baochai and Shi Xiangyun to remain in the Eastern Mansion until matters in the Western Mansion settled, then he crossed the narrow passageway and ordered the gatekeeper old woman to lock the door tightly.

By the time he entered the Western Mansion, he heard hurried footsteps and raised voices everywhere—the household was clearly in chaos.

Jia Cong did not go to Rongqing Hall; instead, he headed straight for the noisiest spot—the direction pointed clearly to Fengjie's courtyard.

Before he reached the courtyard gate, he saw many Embroidered Uniform Guards coming and going; Jia family servants along the path cowered and fled, desperate to avoid them.

From within Fengjie's courtyard came a shrill female voice—Jia Cong recognized it as Wang Wang Xifeng's. His face darkened slightly, and he quickened his pace toward the courtyard.

At the courtyard gate, two Embroidered Uniform Guards blocked his path. Jia Cong's face turned cold. "I am Jia Cong, Supervisor of the Firearms Bureau. The Jia family of Lady Rongguo is a noble house. You bring weapons into our gates—do you have an imperial edict?"

The guards, upon hearing his name, paused in surprise, their manner becoming restrained—no one in the imperial capital was unaware of Jia Cong's reputation.

At that moment, a man stepped out from the courtyard—he wore a black gauze cap, a golden-threaded flying-fish robe with four beasts, a sash, and a xiuchun sword, aged over thirty.

He bowed to Jia Cong. "I've long heard of your noble title, Your Grace. I am He He Honghui, Assistant Regional Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard. I dare not intrude upon a Duke's residence without cause—I am here by His Majesty's oral command to apprehend Jia Lady Lian."

Jia Cong raised an eyebrow. "Jia Lady Lian is my elder brother. What crime has he committed?"

At that moment, Wang Wang Xifeng, hearing Jia Cong's voice, stumbled out of the courtyard, followed by Ping'er, her face streaked with tears.

But as they reached the courtyard gate, the Embroidered Uniform Guards blocked them.

Wang Wang Xifeng cried: "Third Brother, hurry and save your brother! He is the heir of Lady Rongguo Mansion—how can he be thrown into the Embroidered Uniform Guard's prison?!"

He He Honghui's expression changed. He pulled a scroll from his sleeve. "I dare not forge an imperial order. Here is the Embroidered Uniform Guard's arrest warrant—Your Grace may read it yourself."

Jia Cong swiftly scanned the document. His face darkened—it clearly stated that Jia Lady Lian had traveled between Ping'an Prefecture and Datong, colluded with the Sun family, the Datong Commandant, and trafficked in tea, salt, iron, and other prohibited goods, with suspicion of treasonous ties to foreign powers.

Jia Cong silently returned the document to He He Honghui. His mind raced—he quickly understood the truth: Jia She's crimes would almost certainly be laid at Jia Lady Lian's door.

An imperial oral command, an official arrest warrant—this matter was now beyond reversal.

He spoke firmly: "Whether my elder brother is truly guilty must be determined by law.

Before formal charges are filed, I demand you, Commander He, uphold the law—do not harass his family or disturb this household. If you overstep, I shall personally petition His Majesty for your impeachment!"

He He Honghui's expression hardened slightly. Rumors across the capital spoke of this young marquis as a formidable man—today, merely a few words revealed his sharp edge. He hurriedly replied: "Your Grace may rest assured. When I departed, Commander Xu himself instructed me: the Jia family of Lady Rongguo has served the state faithfully. The Embroidered Uniform Guard seeks only the guilty.

We will abide by all regulations and cause no undue disturbance. We sealed Jia Lady Lian's courtyard only to search for evidence."

At that moment, an Embroidered Uniform Captain emerged from the courtyard and shook his head at He He Honghui.

He He Honghui waved his hand—the guards at the gate withdrew. Then over a dozen Embroidered Uniform Guards filed out of the courtyard, dragging behind them Jia Lady Lian, bound tightly with ropes.

Jia Lady Lian's face was ashen; he could barely stand, his legs trembling as the guards dragged him along.

Seeing Jia Cong, he cried out as if seeing salvation: "Third Brother! Third Brother! Save me!"

Jia Cong frowned. "Did you do what the warrant accuses you of?"

Jia Lady Lian, panicked, blurted: "I went to Ping'an Prefecture—I was sent by Elder Uncle!"

At these words, Jia Cong's face changed—and Wang Wang Xifeng gasped in shock.

Though Jia She was dead, his title had not yet passed on—he was still the Lord of Lady Rongguo Mansion. If he was involved, even as the mastermind, the disaster for Lady Rongguo would be far greater.

He He Honghui barked: "This man's lost his wits from fear—seal his mouth, before he says more nonsense!"

Jia Cong heard this and felt a strange unease—why were the Embroidered Uniform Guards suddenly covering for the Jia family?

The guards obeyed, stuffing a cloth into Jia Lady Lian's mouth and shoving him out of the mansion, while Wang Wang Xifeng followed behind, wailing loudly. (End of chapter)