The morning sun hadn't yet burned off the haze when Bai Lanyue arrived at the Ji family estate. She didn't wait for an invitation. Her car pulled past the gates with a flash of her name, and her heels clicked sharply along the stone path as a servant led her through the garden toward the guest courtyard.
Her hands were cold, despite the mild spring breeze. Last night's music still haunted her — that melody. That veil. That presence.
It couldn't be.
It shouldn't be.
But somehow, it *was*.
Ji Lanxue was already waiting for her on the shaded veranda, dressed in soft beige silk and sipping osmanthus tea like someone without a care in the world.
"Miss Bai," she greeted with a bright, innocent smile. "What a lovely surprise. Did you come to bring me flowers for hosting such a stunning gala?"
Lanyue didn't sit. Her posture was tense, her voice clipped. "Who was she?"
Ji Lanxue's lashes fluttered. "She?"
"The veiled musician."
A beat passed. Ji Lanxue leaned back slightly, resting her elbow on the lacquered wood of the chair. "Ah, the star of the night." She let out a dreamy sigh. "Wasn't she… unforgettable?"
"Lanxue." Lanyue's voice sharpened. "I want the truth."
Ji Lanxue smiled again, but this time, her eyes didn't smile with her.
"Do you always demand answers like this when something rattles you?" she asked sweetly. "No greeting, no tea?"
"I didn't come for tea," Lanyue snapped.
"Pity."
Ji Lanxue set her cup down gently. The clink rang louder than it should have.
"You're shaken," she observed lightly, tapping her fingers against the armrest. "Is it because of her music? Or because you recognized something in it?"
Lanyue's lips parted but no words came.
Ji Lanxue tilted her head, voice lowering. "Tell me, Lanyue… what did you *hear* in that melody?"
"It doesn't matter what I heard."
"But it does," Ji Lanxue pressed, tone almost mocking. "Because last night, for the first time in years, you looked *unnerved*."
Lanyue's fingers curled into fists at her sides. "If you know who she is—"
"I didn't say I did."
"Lanxue."
Another pause.
Then Ji Lanxue stood, her gaze steady now — no longer teasing, but edged with something colder. More calculating.
"I'm not obligated to give you answers, Bai Lanyue. She came at *my* invitation. She performed. She left. That's all you need to know."
"I don't believe that."
"You don't have to." She leaned forward, voice lower now. "But perhaps the better question isn't *who* she is... but *why* her music felt like a blade slicing through your past."
Lanyue's breath hitched.
Ji Lanxue smiled again — too bright, too fake. "Funny, isn't it? How music can bring back ghosts."
She turned to pick up her tea again, the conversation clearly over in her mind.
But Lanyue stood frozen. That melody… it *had* been a ghost. One she'd buried years ago and never expected to hear again. Not in front of the entire city.
Not in the form of a masked woman cloaked in red silk and shadows.
"What is she planning?" Lanyue finally asked, barely audible.
Ji Lanxue didn't even turn.
"If you're asking that, you already know this is bigger than a simple performance," she said quietly. "But as I said — I invited her to give the people something beautiful. Isn't that enough for you?"
Lanyue clenched her jaw. "You're playing with fire, Lanxue."
Ji Lanxue turned to her, calm and unreadable. "So are you. But the difference is—I don't pretend I'm not."
With that, she smiled again and sipped her tea, leaving Lanyue standing there — shaken, fuming, and more uncertain than ever.
The past had returned.
And it was playing its tune, one string at a time.