My Senior Sister Says She Will Marry No One But Me - Chapter 27.2

Xue Shuyan was about to advise her not to underestimate herself when suddenly, as if some meridians had been forcibly unlocked within her, a look of sudden understanding, an epiphany appeared on her face:

“Yunge, you speak wisely!”

Du Yunge was slightly startled by Xue Shuyan’s unexpected reaction. But considering Xue Shuyan’s state of mind where “nothing in the world matters except martial arts” it was easy to understand. She must have realized something that would greatly benefit her martial arts practice, hence her excitement and seemingly irrelevant response. So Du Yunge wisely decided to slip away quietly, lest her own shallow understanding of martial arts disturb Xue Shuyan’s moment of enlightenment. But just as she stealthily extended a foot to make her escape.

Xue Shuyan, sharp-eared and quick-eyed, swiftly and firmly grasped her wrist.

Startled by the unmistakable warmth of another person, Du Yunge momentarily lost her ability to speak coherently. For any martial artist, regardless of school or style, the wrist is a sensitive and private point, one that should never be casually touched by others. If someone were to grasp your wrist, it would be akin to handing your life over to them, leaving your fate entirely in their hands. However, Du Yunge’s unease didn’t stem from this. In her view, her life had been saved by Xue Shuyan, so entrusting it to her again wasn’t an issue. What made her uncomfortable was their overly intimate posture at that moment. The warmth of Xue Shuyan’s palm seemed to travel straight to her face:

“Se-Senior Sister? What are you doing?”

Only then did Xue Shuyan realize the intimacy of their position and released Du Yunge’s hand. But whether intentionally or not, before letting go, her slightly calloused fingers gently brushed against Du Yunge’s delicate, snow-white wrist, causing Du Yunge to shiver slightly. The reason was simple the subtle, tingling sensation was simply too unsettling.

If it weren’t Xue Shuyan, Du Yunge would have definitely accused this person of being frivolous. However, Xue Shuyan’s image in her mind was far too upright and flawless, so she didn’t even consider that possibility. After the two locked eyes for a few moments, it was Xue Shuyan who broke the stalemate first, pressing her temples in frustration as she struggled to steady her voice:

“Have you ever considered following in the footsteps of the founding master of Miaoyin Sect, advancing further in the art of music, using the zither’s melody to disrupt an enemy’s mind and then subduing or even killing them?”

Du Yunge felt a pang of shame. As the esteemed leader of Miaoyin Sect, she was actually less knowledgeable about her own sect’s heritage than Xue Shuyan. But Xue Shuyan’s words did stir a faint memory from the depths of her mind:

The founding master of Miaoyin Sect had established the sect as a woman, relying on a zither technique known as the “Heavenly Demon’s Enchanting Melody.” With this skill, she could disrupt the life force of thousands on the battlefield and take lives as easily as picking something out of a bag. Although her zither scores and personal instrument were lost after her death, during her lifetime, she had been honored by the reigning empress with a plaque and official recognition. This allowed the sect to firmly establish its place in the martial world. Even after her passing, the prestige of that imperial favor shielded the fledgling sect once mocked as a “nest of ill-omened stars” enabling it to endure on Mount Wangyou. The name “Miaoyin Sect” was thus passed down through generations.

Though the martial world and the imperial court were supposed to remain separate, like well water never interfering with river water, if someone truly earned the direct favor of the empire’s ruler, that recognition could serve as a solid foundation. It was far more respectable than the origins of those from humble, grassroots backgrounds like the He Family Manor whose reputations could hardly be cleansed even after three generations.

However, to reach the level of the founding master, given Du Yunge’s current abilities, the hardships she would have to endure were far from trivial.

So Xue Shuyan’s question was merely rhetorical. To achieve what the founding master had, one would need to refine their musical skill to the point where the zither’s melody could become a weapon, supplemented by channeling inner energy to vibrate the strings, amplifying the intended effects of the music. For someone like Du Yunge, who fell far short of the baseline in both musical theory and inner energy cultivation, this was simply too daunting a task.

And even if Du Yunge couldn’t manage any of it, what did it matter? Xue Shuyan was fully capable of protecting her and ensuring she lived a carefree life.

Yet, to her surprise, Du Yunge nodded and said:

“Alright, I’ve been considering the same.”

And so, the two, who had been about to leave the training hall, turned back. With Xue Shuyan’s guidance in controlling the external release of inner energy, and Du Yunge’s basic familiarity with the four arts of zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting, she decided to give it a try. Placing her hands on the common wooden zither, she plucked the first note:

“Zheng!”

This rather ordinary wooden guqin was never intended for performance, after all, this was the martial arts hall, not Du Yunge’s private quarters. The instrument had been placed here solely for those wishing to practice the sword-hidden-in-music techniques, with no expectation of anyone actually playing it, let alone Du Yunge herself. Consequently, its tonal quality was significantly inferior, especially when compared to the instruments Du Yunge typically used.

The Miaoyin Sect was immensely wealthy and influential. Even the practice instruments provided for Du Yunge were rare treasures, such as the “Cascade of Pearls,” an unparalleled masterpiece handcrafted by a prince of the previous dynasty. As the foremost of the Four Kingly Guqins, the Cascade of Pearls featured golden emblems and jade feet, with a base of lacquer ash and an exquisite vermilion finish adorned with flowing water and plum blossom patterns. Even those unversed in the art could instantly recognize its elegant form and profound craftsmanship. Its sound was crisp and resonant, so much so that even Du Yunge, who was not particularly skilled in playing, could produce enchanting melodies with casual strumming.

Having grown accustomed to the Cascade of Pearls, it was no surprise that Du Yunge felt an overwhelming sense of irritation upon hearing the first note from this ordinary guqin so much so that she nearly overturned the instrument stand in frustration.

For someone accustomed to the pinnacle of refined tones, such a common, even discordant and unpleasant sound was simply unacceptable.

But if even Xue Shuyan, who typically remained unflappable even in the face of imminent danger, was visibly disturbed, then the issue might not merely be the guqin’s poor sound quality.

Just as Du Yunge prepared to play a second note, Xue Shuyan swiftly seized her hands, preventing any further movement. Frowning deeply, as if maintaining her usual composure required immense effort, she spoke each word with deliberate emphasis, as though wrenching them from the depths of her being:

“Stop.”

Du Yunge had never seen Xue Shuyan so unsettled. Startled, she immediately withdrew her hands from the strings:

“Senior Sister, don’t be alarmed. I won’t play anymore.”

Yet, the moment Du Yunge’s fingertips left the strings, the seven strings of the guqin seemed to lose their last vestige of support, snapping simultaneously with a sharp, metallic twang. The finest string, in particular, appeared to have been stretched to its limit by some immense, terrifying force. As it broke, its severed end whipped upward, lashing directly toward Du Yunge’s hand.

Du Yunge’s hands were still held firmly by Xue Shuyan. Distracted by the brief, jarring note, Xue Shuyan had forgotten to release her grip, leaving them in an awkward predicament:

If the string struck true, even Xue Shuyan would suffer minor injuries; but if Xue Shuyan moved aside, Du Yunge’s hand would inevitably be cut.

When one truly wishes to protect another, even the slightest harm is unacceptable, let alone shielding them from greater dangers or enduring pain in their stead.

Xue Shuyan neither avoided nor yielded, taking the full force of the snapped zither string head-on. Even with her inner energy protecting her, a faint red mark quickly surfaced on her hand, clearly injured, with traces of blood beginning to seep out. Startled, Du Yunge immediately grabbed her hand, stammering incoherently:

“Shuyan! I didn’t mean to, I really didn’t! Is anyone there? My shijie has been cut by the zither string quickly bring some medicine!”

Yet Xue Shuyan’s focus was entirely elsewhere. Hearing the term Du Yunge had blurted out in her panic, the turmoil in Xue Shuyan’s heart, previously stirred by the zither’s melody, settled completely. By the time the maid, alerted by the commotion, hurried in and rushed out to fetch medicine, Xue Shuyan gazed at Du Yunge, a faint, dazed, yet understanding smile gracing her lips. Her voice was so soft it was almost inaudible:

“Good.”

“Say it again, Yunge.”

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