Another night, another pile of imperial bodies at his feet as Làng Wū Yáo finished his song. The applause that followed felt shallow as usual, but he was fulfilling his purpose as the Court Virtuoso. It was the only thing someone and something like him could ever hope to accomplish, the only place his voice could be protected. So many times, his mother had told him he could reach the courts with his voice. And now he had. He wondered what his mother would think of him now.

But something still felt off. Could he be something more than just a sorcerous blade?

He pushed the feeling aside as Cháo Fēng crashed into him. He didn't object when she rubbed her face into his robes, but he wanted to sink through the floor.

As she rubbed up against him, Làng felt something darker than usual in her eyes. She was angry with him somehow despite the perfect performance with the requested song.

She grabbed him by the sleeve as the guests filtered out, dragging him off the platform into the back room. She slammed him against the wall, grabbing a teacup off the table and striking him with it suddenly. "It's a good thing your performances are divine, else I'd be truly mad that you're asking about that horrible man again! Qiáng said he heard you asking a few days ago! Do you want to cause yourself pain in thinking about what happened to you?!"

He placed a hand on his face where the cup had struck him, feeling the blood begin to seep through the cut. It hadn't been Wěi or Fāng that mentioned something. That was last night and he hadn't seen that superficial all-too-willing-to-please Qiáng for a few days. He was getting hit for a question from a few days ago, not that she'd ever hit him before. Even upset, she just rubbed her face in his robes and made him want to sink through the wall. This time, he wanted to sink through the wall for a different reason "I'm sorry. I just wanted to know where my red pipa was, but it seems lost forever. I won't ask again."

"What is with you and that red pipa?!" she hit him with the teacup again, unrelentingly, several more times until he took to his knees and curled up. He was still trying to reach out for anything within that memory gap, and there was no way she'd let her songbird leave her again. She would ensure he would never ask again. "Is the white one not good enough?! I had that specially made from the best craftsman in all of Xī Yōu!" She didn't want him to become that red bard ever again, and her temper was getting the better of her. All she could think about was how he'd betrayed her, how he'd become that horrible monster instead of her beautiful songbird.

"It belonged to my mother!" The words spilled from his lips uncontrollably. He was usually so hesitant to even mention anything about himself, but something kept telling him to get that red pipa back. It wasn't just the connection to his past. He felt like it would answer questions about the two year gap.

He honestly didn't want to think of the gap and of Shāng Bù Huàn. He wanted to forget about it more than he'd already forgotten. All the horrors he must've committed with his voice in the hands of that villain, things that would get him killed if he were anyone but the princess's property. Yet something always scratched at the back of his mind like an unreachable itch. Something kept telling him that everything wasn't right, just like there was something or someone trying to call out to them. He wanted to forget them both, but at the same time, he just couldn't let it go.

Cháo Fēng stopped with her hand poised above him, her anger suddenly melting away. It wasn't a memory he was seeking but a memento. She'd never once heard him speak of his origins, not that she had ever cared to ask. All she knew was that he was a commoner that Xiào Kuáng Juàn had found entrancing drunks in a tavern. They got high off his voice, and she wanted that sort of power for herself.

But there was more she knew. Xiào had detailed how the red pipa had transformed when Làng betrayed her and became that red bard that traveled with that horrible villain. She couldn't under any circumstances let that red pipa get back to him, else he could start trying to remember, even if Làng was seeking it as a memory of something before the two year gap. Xiào promised the Resonant Memory's spell was unbreakable, but she wasn't about to take any chances.

She set the teacup back down on the table. "That horrible Shāng Bù Huàn has taken it from you," Cháo Fēng pushed him back up to his feet. "Another of his prizes he's taken from us. What a terrible man!"

Làng was expecting to be struck again, but he wasn't. Something scratched at the back of his mind, a silent voice he was choosing to ignore as he stared at her with worry knit into his brow.

"I will make sure he suffers for what he has done!" she added. Oh how that Sword-plundering Nemesis must be suffering already. Xiào had detailed to her the work he put into this plan, and she was delighted with how much pain it must cause that horrible Shāng Bù Huàn. She wanted to delight in his pain, but right now, it was best to ensure that Làng would know nothing of what really happened a month ago. She would ensure her songbird was forever hers, trapped in a cage of her own design. There was no way he'd ever betray her again.

She frowned at the blood and tea now dying his white robes. She reached up, rubbing the blood off his cheek as he winced and tried to shrink away from her. "I hope you'll forgive me for my temper. I just couldn't stand the thought of you going after Shāng Bu Huan to get it back. Go clean up, my dear precious songbird. And leave the punishing of that horrible villain to me, okay?" She shoved him out the door. "I'll be sure to protect you from the greatest villain in all of Xī Yōu."

"I… um…" He stared down at his robes. They were a mess. His shoulders were stained in tea, laced with blood from his face. The bottom of his robe was dirty from the fight, caked in dust and small specks of blood. He placed a hand on his face, feeling it start to swell. It felt like ages since he'd been struck, not since his mother would hit him with the switch so he'd learn the notes perfectly. "I'll… go clean up."

He quickly ducked down the hallway towards his room. Fāng and Wěi nodded slightly in acknowledgement as he passed by. The pair hadn't said anything about the conversation the night before, thankfully, as that might've resulted in more than a teacup to the face.

He tossed the robes aside, pulling a simple white one out to replace it. His face had finally stopped bleeding, now sporting a bit of a gash and a puffy bruise to match. Perhaps he should've kept his mouth shut, but something still screamed at him deep inside, something crying to be heard. He still wasn't sure if it was some lingering effect of what Shāng had done to him or something that was supposed to be there. He couldn't recall feeling this before the two year memory gap.

Làng frowned at his reflection as he rubbed the dried blood from his face. Was it always like this? Was he always meant to be miserable and endure this sort of life to protect his voice? Or had he somehow truly found happiness during those missing two years?

He shook his head. Where were these thoughts coming from? It was better like this. He wouldn't be used for evil schemes ever again. He had to clear his mind. Grasping the soiled robe, he stepped out the door, finding Wěi and Fāng gossipping about how they thought one of the guests was beautiful again. "If you could, could you have this repaired or replaced before the next performance?"

Wěi took the offered robe, glancing between the bloodstains and the fresh wound on Làng's face. That wasn't from a battle. Everyone knew the princess had a temper, but no one ever spoke of it. The Virtuoso always seemed immune from her temper but today something had happened to change that. Làng didn't look like he wanted to talk about it, busying himself with staring blankly down the hallway.

Wěi frowned in worry. He wanted to say something to console Làng, but what could he even say? Perhaps he could bring him some extra tea tonight. "We'll take care of it."

"Leave it to us, no problem!" Fāng confirmed.

"Thank you. I'll be in the gardens." When he wasn't bound with obligations, Làng had free reign of nearly the entire palace. His presence generally wasn't questioned and was a common sight around the gardens. He often kept to the zen garden as it was perhaps the only place where he felt at ease and people left him alone, but this time he ventured just a bit further as the night hours began to settle in. He wanted a spot away from everyone, a place to clear his mind. He had to forget everything about what had happened to him and any hopes that he had of retrieving his precious red pipa ever again.

He hadn't set foot in the rear courtyard before, though tonight he hoped to find it was empty. Sadly he was disappointed. It was an extensive courtyard with no one around except in one very specific location. There were far too many guards standing in front of a pagoda-like structure on the far end. Everything about that place seemed suspicious.

"Unfortunately we'll have to turn even you away, Court Virtuoso," the guard informed him as he approached just slightly. "Only Her Majesty is permitted inside."

Well that screamed suspicious, but the princess did have her sanctuaries. "I was searching for a quiet location. What is this place?" Làng questioned. He peered inside. It didn't exactly seem very special by any definition.

"This place once housed a sacred sword left over from the War of Fading Dusk," the guard replied, "but it had since been moved when that villain Shāng Bù Huàn started stealing sacred swords."

Làng frowned. It was a sword's cage, a place where it was heavily guarded and unable to leave. Figuratively of course. He himself was probably the only living sword that had ever come through the palace grounds, but in a way, he could relate. Perhaps he wasn't supposed to be here at this strange pagoda. He'd already been beaten for asking about Shāng Bù Huàn once today. He didn't need to have the other side of his face swell up as well. "I see."

"Don't concern yourself with Shāng Bù Huàn, Court Virtuoso," the guard added without any invitation. "While a sacred sword may be stored here once in a while, there is no way that villain will ever make it inside."

Làng nodded, but he wasn't so sure. If he could take several of them down while singing and Shāng could take Làng down, what was there to actually stop Shāng?

"That's right!" another guard chimed in. "And even if he managed to make it past the walls, Xiào Kuáng Juàn would absolutely take him down!"

"I hear that Xiào Kuáng Juàn had crossed swords with him and that villain was forced to retreat. I bet if he ever dared cross into the palace, he would never leave," a third guard added assuredly. "Thrown behind bars, unable to spread villainy across the country."

Làng was never happy with how much the guard here tended to follow Xiào in absolute idolatry. He found the man to be conniving to the core. Everything about him sent Làng's senses into a knot. He hated how Xiào put a hand on his shoulder or seemed to watch him when he was playing in the zen garden. It was almost as if Xiào was keeping an eye on him, not for Làng's sake, but something else. He hadn't quite figured it out yet, but even if he did, it wasn't his place to challenge Xiào and his intentions anyway. That always ended up with getting jabbed in the shoulder by a fan or insulted. It was easier just to keep his mouth shut.

"By the way, Virtuoso," the first guard added. "I hear you are fond of playing in gardens. Have you seen the west gardens? The plum blossoms are in full bloom right now. There's rarely anyone in there at night."

"That sounds nice and quiet, the perfect place I am seeking." Làng offered a polite bow, leaving the strange sword sanctuary behind. What a weird thing to have in the palace, but it wasn't the first time he'd supposedly encountered them. At least that was what he'd been told. When he was stolen, Shāng had come into the other palace in search of a sword. He must've encountered Shāng at that point, finding himself struck with a sword before the guards could ever find him.

What had honestly led to that? Why would Làng even be in a place like that alone? It didn't make sense, but anything surrounding missing time never did. There were so many questions in his mind, and any attempt to find an answer seemed to result in getting hit by dinnerware.

He rubbed at his swollen face. These sorts of thoughts just didn't suit him, and he found himself forcefully shoving them from his mind. He had to stop thinking about what happened and forget ever remembering what lay in that missing two year gap. The forgotten memories should stay just that. Forgotten. He shouldn't be thinking this way at all.

He was a blade and nothing more. That was what it was supposed to be.

He stared up at the plum blossoms swaying in the breeze. That guard was right. They were beautiful.

….

Author's notes

Lang really has had a bad day. Chao had finally lost her temper at him, all because he wanted something important to him. Perhaps somehow he'll learn what has become of the pipa. Perhaps not.

And I wonder about that strange sanctuary. Quite a curious place, is it not?