"Xu Sanniang has a voice like silk. Surely she'll charm both the Emperor and the Noble Consort." Sanniang nev…
"Xu Sanniang has a voice like silk. Surely she'll charm both the Emperor and the Noble Consort."
Sanniang never dared believe the overseer's praise.
"One wrong note, and His Majesty will hear it at once." The Masked Troupe existed by imperial will; in matters of music, no one surpassed the Emperor's ear. There was simply no room for mistakes.
For first‑time performers entering the palace, lifting one's head was unthinkable.
Sanniang trembled so hard she barely knew what to do with her hands and feet.
"She's thirteen—still just a little one."
The Noble Consort said, her voice warm and gentle, pitched with perfect grace. Sanniang risked a glance upward. She saw a soft, dimpled smile—like spring light spilling over a garden in bloom.
The Emperor wished to present a new composition, a song he wanted the troupe to sing for the Consort.
It was said to be based on a village tune collected by wandering song‑gatherers—a melody about a young man longing for the one he loves, sleepless and restless.
A man who ruled the world, able to bestow treasures beyond imagining—yet here he was, imitating the shy earnestness of a common boy, offering his heart a little awkwardly.
Sanniang sang with exquisite care. She knew she wasn't bad—but she wasn't truly good either.
In the Music Bureau, "not perfect" meant "wrong."
As she waited for judgment, the words came: "Child, come here."
She nearly stepped on her hem as she stumbled forward.
The Noble Consort let out a soft laugh and placed a bright red fruit into her palm, saying she was delighted.
Whatever the Emperor said afterward faded into a blur. It almost sounded as though he was asking what reward she desired—
his voice low, authoritative, yet tinged with something gentler, almost coaxing.
Around her, performers bowed, accepted their rewards, and withdrew. Spring was left to the Emperor and his beloved alone.
Born into a family of musicians, chosen and welcomed into the Imperial Music Bureau—everything had unfolded as naturally as water flowing downhill.
And as she stepped through the palace gates once more, Sanniang realized, quietly and to her own surprise: Perhaps she truly did love to sing.