To describe the kind of woman Bai Pingting is was something that even Chu Beijie couldn't do.

He sat up in bed, his eyes full of unrest as he turned to the figure lying beside him.

The morning sun managed only a trace of light to pierce the heavy clouds and fall softly on her spread-out black hair. He saw a hint of smile on her unsuspecting sleeping face.

A good dream?

Chu Beijie couldn't help it. He drew closer to her.

He knew he hadn't been nice to her.

For eight months, she has been imprisoned in the west chamber. Every night he violated her, gaining a lingering ecstasy each time, but he had yet to be nice to her once.

Why does she still have sweet dreams? Chu Beijie didn't understand.

He neared her, wanting to see the smile in her lips in more detail. The breath ejected from her nose sent strands of her soft hair fluttering.

Her thick eyelashes began to flutter. Chu Beijie pulled away and slipped out of the bed.

Pingting opened her eyes, seeing Chu Beijie's turned back. She sat up, whispering, "Up already, Duke?"

His back. It was always and only the back view.

Last night's affection was a passing cloud. When she woke, not even a trace was left.

The Chu Beijie she saw today was the same as that day he left without a word, his straight posture and unchanging heart of stone.

Eight months have passed. Now is the season of snow. Spring was still in a distant place.

"Miss, you're up?" Her personal maid, Hongqian, stepped into the room holding a brass basin full of hot water. She placed it down on the table and rubbed her hands while saying, "It's really cold today, and snow already started falling before dawn. It isn't heavy, but it's still dreadfully cold. You should wash soon, while the water's still hot."

She walked forward, helping Pingting off the bed. Catching a glimpse of Pingting's frown, she hurriedly asked, "What's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?"

Pingting sat back on the bed. She closed her eyes to compose herself before opening them again. Shaking her head Pingting replied, "It's nothing. I simply rose too quickly hence a hamstring was pulled."

The water was warm. The mist whirled and lightly danced, enveloping the smoothly polished copper basin. Pingting slowly immersed her fingers into the water, appreciating the different temperatures.

Hongqiang stared at the ten fingers, sighing softly. "What beautiful hands."

"Beautiful?" Pingting questioned.

"Beautiful."

Pingting pulled her hands out of the water and Hongqian wrapped them in a white cotton towel, gently patting dry.

Tender fingertips, beautifully shaped nails and thin, scallion-like fingers.

Pingting laughed. "What's the point about beauty? These two hands can no longer play the qin."

"Why?" Hongqian asked curiously.

Pingting didn't appear to be in the mood for talking. She turned away, idly looking at the bitterness of winter outside her window.

Hongqian had already been serving Pingting for over a month and knew her temper. Knowing that she'd been speaking out of place, she didn't ask any further. She good-naturedly packed up the things, picking up the basin and preparing to exit the west chamber.

The maid walked out of the threshold. She was about to turn to close the door when she heard a voice.

The voice was like smoke and vulnerable to the wind. It left a hint of incense residual that lingered by the ear.

"I...don't have a qin."

The qin quickly came.

Not quite noon, a guqin had been placed on the desk.

It wasn't something fancy like the tail-burnt guqin or made of parasol-tree, but to find such a thing in such a desolate place within half a day was an achievement within itself.

Pingting reached out, touching that qin. She stroked it gently and lovingly as if it weren't a qin but a frightened kitten, needing much comfort.

Hongqian came in again.

"Miss, you can play qin now right?"

Pingting shook her head.

Honqian continued, "Don't you have a qin now?"

It seemed as if pain or something else hooked the corners of Pingting's red lips into a laugh, but she still shook her head absentmindedly. "What's the point of having a qin? No one's listening, therefore why waste the effort?"

"I'll listen."

"You?" Pingting paused, turning around. She smiled. "Can you understand what you hear?"

Before Hongqian's frustration surfaced, Pingting began to laugh softly. "Oh well, I'll just assume you understand it then."

Hands were washed; incense was lit.

The hazy white smoke fluttering in midair brought an indescribable tenderness that gently floated at the tip of people's noses.

Pingting kneeled and composed herself.

She plucked a string....

Following the soft sound, the notes danced away from the strings with invisible wings, stretching out with graceful posture and extending into the beyond.

"When there is trouble, there are heroes; when there are heroes, there are beautiful women; surviving the turmoil, surviving the turmoil..."

She opened her heart to the singing, plucking the strings with greater emotion.

Whether it be about heroes or beautiful women.

This phrase, she knew, was just silly people in a silly knot of emotion.

"If there are soldiers, there will be fame; if there is fame, there will be fraud; soldiers know fraud, soldiers know fraud..."

Despite her hands being both thin and white, her singing was as steady as a rock.

As she plucked the strings, it was as if she had returned to the dangerously shrouded cliffs of the Cloud Valley route where she was in Chu Beijie's arms, promising to never go against each other despite the abyss below their feet.

If soldiers knew fraud, then what about feeling?

Yangfeng was a thousand miles away. She sent three letters, each word carrying tears and sorrow. Each one was more anxious than the last.

Pingting restrained her emotion. She ripped each and every one of those letters sent from a thousand miles into shreds until they became flying paper butterflies that filled the skies.

It was the cause.

How to explain? What to explain?

She could not end the House of Jing-An bloodline.

Nor did she want to believe that Chu Beijie's love for her was nothing but a perfect scam.

If there were true feelings, how could one lose to fraud?

If there was deep love, then believe to the end. Love until the end. Regardless of the innummerable twists and turns, one's mind should never be changed.

"Swallows bring fortune, but too much fortune brings damage. A joy to look, a joy to look..."

Steadily and tactfully overturning the accusations was the most intelligent approach.

Praying for a test of heart? It's foolish to use love to resolve resentment.