On the wedding day, my wife was abnormal

In the northwest corner of Qixia Garden, the autumn morning in "Tingxue Tower" is filled with a sense of seclusion and tranquility.

The pavilion is built by the water, surrounded by windows on three sides, and outside the windows is a vast lotus pond.

In late autumn, the lotus leaves have long since withered, and the dry and yellow stems stand stubbornly in the cold pond water, reflecting the lead-gray sky.

Several tall sycamore trees stand beside the building, and their golden leaves flutter in the morning breeze, covering the stone steps in front of the water pavilion like a soft carpet.

The air is crisp, filled with the slightly astringent aroma of withered lotus leaves, the decaying scent of fallen leaves, and a faint, cool hint of sandalwood.

In the water pavilion, Yue Wu had been up for a long time.

She was wearing a moon-white brocade long dress with sparse silver cloud patterns embroidered on the hem. Her black hair was not tied up, but loosely tied behind her head with a plain silver hairpin. A few strands of hair hung down on her cheeks, making her skin look even whiter and almost transparent.

She knelt on a cushion by the window, with a low table in front of her and a small copper incense burner on it. Green smoke curled up from the burner, rising and dispersing, carrying with it the cool scent of sandalwood.

In her arms she held a rosewood pipa, the body of which was glossy and the strings were like silver.

She did not play, but just sat quietly with her eyes lowered, her fingertips unconsciously stroking the cold strings, her eyes fell on the desolate lotus pond outside the window, her eyes empty and distant, as if immersed in her own world.

Lin Zhen's footsteps landed on the wooden plank road outside the water pavilion, making a slight "creaking" sound.

He did not wear his usual clothes today. Instead, he changed into a dark-colored arrow-sleeved suit with dark cloud patterns, and a thin cloak of the same color. He had just returned from the martial arts training ground, and there was still a hint of coldness and sharpness on his body.

He deliberately slowed down his pace and stopped outside the open carved wooden door, his eyes falling on the cold, moon-like figure in the water pavilion.

The morning light shone through the window lattice, casting a hazy halo on her, as if she was covered by a layer of gauze.

The sense of loneliness and isolation from the world blends with the scenery of withered lotus leaves outside the window, forming a quiet and slightly sad picture.

He didn't go in immediately, but just watched quietly.

Watch her fingertips sliding unconsciously on the strings, watch the afterimages of withered lotus leaves reflected in her ethereal eyes, watch her strands of hair blown by the morning breeze.

This tranquility is like a deep pool or ancient well, silent and motionless, yet possessing its own captivating power.

After a moment, he walked into the water pavilion.

"Wei'er." His voice was low and gentle, like a stone thrown into a pond, breaking the silence of the water pavilion.

Yue Wu paused at the sound, her fingertips pausing as she slowly raised her eyes. Her cold, clear eyes gazed at him, like moonlight piercing through mist, carrying a subtle, unnoticeable ripple. She didn't stand, but simply nodded slightly, "Husband."

"What are you thinking about?" Lin Zhen walked to her side, his eyes also cast towards the desolate lotus pond outside the window.

"Look at the withered lotus." Yue Wu's voice was as clear as the dripping of an icy spring. "Withered but not falling, withered but not undying, they have a unique charm."

"Autumn is cold and harsh," Lin Zhen said, "but we are gathering strength and waiting for the coming spring."

Yue Wu tilted her head slightly, her cold eyes falling on his calm profile: "Husband, what you said is very in line with Zen."

"It's not Zen." Lin Zhen withdrew his gaze and fell on the pipa in her arms, "It's the cycle of nature. It rises to the peak and then declines, and then rises again after the extreme decline."

Yue Wu was silent for a moment, then gently plucked a string with her fingertips, producing a clear, trembling sound. "Like a zither string. There's a fine line between tension and relaxation. Too tight and it breaks; too loose and the sound is lost."

"Weier understands the piano." Lin Zhen said.

"The zither also understands people." Yue Wu lowered her eyes and stroked the strings with her fingertips again. "Happiness, anger, sorrow, and happiness are all expressed on the strings."

"What note is Wu'er playing on the strings right now?" Lin Zhen asked.

Yue Wu raised her eyes, staring straight at him with cold eyes, her gaze as clear as water: "It's Jingyin."

"Silent?" Lin Zhen raised his eyebrows.

"When the mind is still, the sound is still." Yue Wu said, "Would my husband like to listen to a song?"

"I'm all ears." Lin Zhen sat down on another cushion.

Yue Wu adjusted her sitting position and held the pipa firmly.

She took a deep breath, raised her fingertips slightly, and placed them on the strings.

He did not move the dial immediately, but just concentrated and calmed his mind, as if he was accumulating some kind of strength.

After a moment, the fingertips lightly hooked, and a low and rich scattered sound rang out, like the morning bell of an ancient temple, piercing the silence.

Then, a series of clear overtones, like pearls falling on a plate, tinkled and flowed in the cool air.

She was playing the piece "Wild Geese Flying over the Flat Sand". The sound of the piano was vast and distant, carrying the loneliness and magnanimity of autumn, as if bringing people into the vast sandbar, watching the lone geese flying south and listening to the wind blowing by.

Lin Zhen closed his eyes and listened.

The sound of the piano is sometimes high-pitched like the cry of wild geese in the sky, sometimes low and melodious like wild geese landing on the sand, sometimes rapid like the wind blowing yellow sand, and sometimes slow like the autumn sky.

Yue Wu's piano skills have reached perfection. Her fingering is clean and neat, and her tone is pure and transparent. What is even more rare is the state of mind that is integrated into the sound of the piano - cold, lonely, but with a kind of detached indifference.

The sound of the piano echoes in the water pavilion, blending with the withered lotus, fallen leaves and cold pond water outside the window, forming a sonic picture of autumn.

When the song ended, the lingering sound lingered in the water pavilion.

Yue Wu lightly pressed the strings with her fingertips to stop the lingering sound. Her cold face remained calm, except for the fine beads of sweat oozing from her forehead, showing her concentration and dedication just now.

"What a wonderful piece of music 'Wild Geese Landing on the Plain Sand'." Lin Zhen opened his eyes, his gaze deep, "Wu'er's music is truly extraordinary."

"My husband, you are too kind." Yue Wu put down the pipa, took a silk handkerchief, and gently wiped her forehead. "The pipa is the voice of the heart. If the heart is not there, the sound will not reach."

"Is Wuer feeling upset?" Lin Zhen asked.

Yue Wu raised her eyes, her cold gaze fixed on him. After a moment of silence, she slowly said, "Yes, and no. Seeing the withered lotus leaves, I think of the splendor. Hearing the wild geese cry, I miss my homeland. However, splendor is fleeting, and homeland is hard to return to. All that remains is this body, this zither, and this heart, content with the present."

Her voice was calm, yet it expressed the loneliness and indifference of a wanderer.

Lin Zhen observed the fleeting ripple in the depths of her cold, clear eyes, and understood. She came from a family of scholars in Jiangnan, but due to family misfortunes, she was displaced and eventually sent to live in a royal palace. Her longing for her homeland was like a deeply buried seed, rarely revealed, but never fading.

In the afternoon, the sun shines through the clouds, casting a little warmth.

The study on the second floor of "Tingxue Tower" is elegantly decorated.

There is a large rosewood desk by the window, on which are all the four treasures of the study, and under the paperweight lies an unfinished ink lotus painting.

There is a row of bookshelves against the wall, filled with rare ancient books and collections of piano scores.

The air was filled with the scent of ink and sandalwood.

Yue Wu stood in front of the desk, holding a purple brush with the tip dipped in thick ink, concentrating on depicting a withered lotus leaf in the painting.

The brushwork is vigorous and powerful, and the ink colors are thick and thin, which perfectly expresses the brokenness and elegance of the lotus leaves.

Lin Zhen sat on the bamboo couch by the window, holding a volume of "Yuefu Poetry Collection" in his hand, but his eyes fell on her focused profile.

The sunlight outlines her slender figure, and her focused expression carries a sense of solitude and aloofness.

"Wu'er painted lotus instead of flowers?" Lin Zhen put down the book.

"Flowers fade quickly." Yue Wu's pen still lingered, her voice clear and cold. "Though the leaves are withered, they still retain their strength and vitality, making them more enduring."

"Character survives in fallen leaves." Lin Zhen nodded, "Just as integrity survives in troubled times."

Yue Wu paused her brush tip, raised her eyes and glanced at him, a glimmer of light flashed in her cold eyes, then she lowered them again and continued painting: "My husband, your words are very insightful."

"It's not a painting." Lin Zhen stood up and walked to the desk. "It's a real feeling. In the wind and snow of Northern Yan, in the beacon fires at the border, I've seen many withered bones, but also many proud ones."