Xiao Yun studied her expression carefully. “Does Miss find it difficult to get used to staying here?”
Hong Ning smiled faintly and changed the subject. “Your young master must have put a great deal of thought into building this estate.”
Xiao Yun replied, “This land originally belonged to two prominent gentry families. The young master bought it from them to build a retreat. Once it's fully completed, it will be truly magnificent.”
Hong Ning nodded knowingly. “Your young master enjoys solitude?”
Xiao Yun giggled. “The young master enjoys lively places.”
A man who loved noise and excitement had chosen to build a secluded estate in the mountains?
Hong Ning couldn’t help but find it amusing. She reached out to touch the bamboo stalks. “These bamboo must be quite old. They were probably here long before the estate was built.”
Xiao Yun nodded. “The young master took a liking to them and insisted on keeping them. He even named this place ‘Listening Bamboo Pavilion.’”
She pointed into the distance and sighed. “There used to be a huge flower garden over there, filled with all kinds of flowers. But the young master thought it was too messy and overcrowded, so once the western section is finished, he plans to clear it out in the spring and build a Moonlit Terrace instead.”
Following the direction of Xiao Yun’s finger, Hong Ning looked over and saw a stretch of broken low walls on a gentle slope—it must have been the flower garden.
Xiao Yun said a few more words before leaving.
The winding path was paved with black and white pebbles, simple yet elegant like an ink painting. Occasionally, a few dry bamboo leaves drifted down, adding to the tranquil atmosphere.
Hong Ning carefully observed her surroundings, feeling increasingly bewildered. She couldn’t understand where this inexplicable sense of familiarity was coming from.
She remembered that when she left Chong Zhou, Yang Zhen had mentioned that the road led toward Lizhou. Yet by some twist of fate, she had ended up in Ganzhou instead. And to think that such an estate existed deep in the mountains—it was like something out of a book. If she hadn’t sensed the absence of demonic energy, she might have thought this place was an illusion conjured by a fox spirit.
The windows of the small pavilion were wide open, nearly spanning half the wall, making the space bright and airy. Since the building was newly constructed, the interior was sparsely furnished, leaving it feeling somewhat empty.
A bamboo couch should be placed here.
She looked at the empty space along the wall, and the thought arose suddenly.
A moment later, she laughed at herself. She must have subconsciously decided that a bamboo couch would be a fitting choice, and so her mind simply assumed it should be there.
But then, why could she faintly hear the sound of a qin?
A melody—light and lingering, yet infused with an unrestrained confidence. The skill of the player was evident, the notes carrying a sense of carefree elegance, of deep contentment, as though a lonely musician had finally found a kindred spirit.
Or like a young scholar, returning home in triumph after passing the imperial exams, laughing joyfully with the one he cherished.
Hong Ning clutched the window frame and stood frozen for a long time.
A vague sense of unease stirred within her.
Hurriedly, she turned and walked out of the pavilion.
She couldn’t shake off the strange feeling from earlier.
On her way back, she tried to push the thought aside, but as she passed by a slope, voices from behind a curtain reached her ears.
“It can’t be finished by the end of the year?” The tone was displeased.
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