The Underdog Romance of the Scholar and the Beauty

The victory banquet ended in discord.

Zhang Sheng didn't know how he made it back to his guest room in the West Chamber. He felt dizzy and his limbs were cold.

Every scene from that marriage-breaking banquet—Lady Cui's contemptuous face, the sympathetic looks from everyone around—they were like knives repeatedly slicing through his heart.

He locked himself in his room, refusing to eat or drink, not speaking a word.

During the day, he sat motionless, like a soulless stone statue. At night, he would take out the seven-string zither he always carried and play it over and over.

He played "The Phoenix Seeks Its Mate."

"There is a beautiful woman, once seen never forgotten. Not seeing her for a day, drives one to madness."

The zither's sound was plaintive, like weeping and telling tales of sorrow, filled with endless longing, grief, and despair. Each note was like the voice of his bleeding heart, traveling through the silent night sky toward the embroidery tower beyond that high wall.

Separated by just one wall was an equally anguished heart.

Since her argument with her mother that day, Yingying had been confined to the embroidery tower. She had heard about everything that happened at the victory banquet and felt unbearable heartache.

She knew he was ill—not physically, but heartsick.

Whenever the sorrowful zither music came in the quiet of night, her heart broke piece by piece. She understood his music, understood all his grievances and pain.

She hated her mother, and hated her own weakness even more. She could only listen to her beloved's painful lament across a wall, unable to do anything.

"Young miss, please eat something. You haven't eaten all day," Hong Niang said with concern as she brought a bowl of lotus seed soup.

Yingying shook her head as tears silently fell, dropping onto the zither strings. Before her also sat a zither.

"Hong Niang, do you think... he hates me?" she asked.

"How could he!" Hong Niang exclaimed. "Young Master Zhang isn't that kind of person! He only feels sorry for you! If he hates anyone, it should be the old madam! What she did this time was too much! Everyone in the temple is cursing her behind her back for breaking her promise!"

Yingying sighed softly, her delicate fingers gently plucking the zither string.

"Ding—"

A clear, resonant note rose in the still night, seemingly answering the sorrowful music from beyond the wall.

Outside the wall, Zhang Sheng, playing with a broken heart, suddenly heard this response and was startled.

It was her zither sound!

He recognized it immediately—this music carried comfort, apology, and equally deep longing.

His spirits lifted, and the melody under his fingers changed. The music was no longer so bitter, but took on a tender, questioning tone.

As if asking: Yingying, are you well? Is there still a place for me in your heart?

In the embroidery tower, Yingying understood his question. Her fingertips danced across the strings, using equally tender music to firmly answer him.

I am here. I have always been here. My heart has never changed.

And so, that night, an extraordinary scene appeared above Pujiu Temple.

A high wall separated two courtyards.

On this side of the wall, a devoted scholar faced the moon, playing music of unrequited love.

On the other side, a melancholy maiden by her window, responding with music of undying devotion.

Two zithers, question and answer, call and response.

They spoke not a single word, yet it surpassed thousands of words.

Through music, they achieved a communion of souls. They confided in each other, comforted each other, and tended to each other's wounds.

The monks in the temple and the pilgrims who had not yet departed were stirred by this music. They stood in the courtyard, listening quietly. Though they couldn't understand the intricacies, they could feel the intensity of emotion that was too deep to dissolve.

"Alas, they are truly a match made in heaven, what a pity..." someone sighed.

And Hong Niang, standing beneath the embroidery tower, listening to the intertwined music, stamped her feet in frustration.

What use was playing the zither! If these two continued this "spiritual communion," they would surely die of broken hearts!

No, I can't watch them suffer like this anymore.

If the old madam won't let them be together, then I will make sure they are!

A bold idea began to grow wildly in Hong Niang's mind.

She, Hong Niang the master matchmaker, was about to officially come online!