A very long time ago, lived an emperor with twelve sons. All of the princes were greatly skilled in the arts of the gentleman, but each had one in particular they loved the most. All the princes, that is, except the fourth, a young man named Long WeiLiu. WeiLiu had no love for politics or court life, though his sweet tongue could charm the birds; neither did he love the art of war or combat, though his dancing sword curved across the very sky with elegance. His only joy came from the birdsong in his garden on the banks of the MiXu river.

One late morning, while the blue summer sky shimmered with wispy clouds, WeiLiu was dragged from his peace by his three elder brothers. The crown prince, Long XiYouli, nicknamed ‘Xin” by his siblings, began a long speech about the weather, while the second and third princes, Long QinYing and Long WeiZhe respectively, forcefully escorted WeiLiu through his modest residence. Ignoring Xin, WeiLiu addressed WeiZhe.

“Where are we going, brother?” he asked patiently.

“We are going on a boat trip.” WeiZhe narrowed his piercing violet eyes, his smile widening an evil fraction. WeiLiu lit a candle for his own sanity.

“Why?” he asked, miserably.

“Because, as our glorious and altogether tiresome crown prince has been elaborating for the last millennium, the weather is excellent. And so is the alcohol.” He added as an afterthought.

“Why must you drag me about so you can play with your inebriate friends.”

“Because you don’t get drunk and we need someone to bring us home after we get wasted.”

“That’s very mature of you.” WeiLiu wanted kick his brother, but WeiZhe avoided it easily.

“You don’t know how to have fun, brother. Its why no one will marry you.” WeiZhe tossed his brother a malicious smile and skipped down the path to his palace. WeiLiu sighed sadly and shook his head.

“I’m unmarried because I choose to be. I just want to be left alone. Besides, aren’t you also a bachelor?” He bowed his head, a few strands of his light brown hair falling over his jade green eyes. QinYing looked at him with sympathy. Xin scurried after WeiZhe and continued drawling in the distance. QinYing patted his brother on the shoulder. WeiLiu winced at the force in his affection. QinYing was a general in his father’s army, a famous soldier with incredible strength. Said famous general pulled WeiLiu along behind him, his scarlet eyes and hair shining in the sunlight.

“Come on, WeiLiu. I’ll help you get ready.” He started leading WeiLiu towards his palace.

“Thank you, but I’ll manage in my own home. I’ll have Xiao Mao help me with the proper attire for an outing.” He shook off QinYing’s hand and began walking back the way they had come. The general stood silently for a while, watching his shy brother’s small figure as it wandered away out of sight. He sighed sadly.

“No one really understands you, WeiLiu. I hope you find a good friend soon. You need one.” So saying, he spun on his heel and walked briskly away.

WeiLiu sipped silently on a small dish of clear wine, watching the stars quietly drifting overhead. The ripples of the river lapped softly against the sides of the huge boat that lay in its slow current. WeiLiu breathed in the chill of the night air and conversed quietly with himself.

“Listen to the clamor of the merrymakers. How garish people are. Partying like there’s no tomorrow. I have a mind to leave them to their foolishness.”

He sat thinking for a while, before a drunk idiot showed up and started harassing him. At his wits end, WeiLiu sought out the boat keeper and begged him to let him off. The man looked at him strangely, but ordered a manservant to row WeiLiu ashore on a small boat. WeiLiu thanked him gratefully and left as swiftly as he could. He listened joyfully as the noisome ship drifted away and climbed up a tree to finish his drink. He was about to pop open a bottle of MingTian wine, when a faint strain of music entranced him. His attention diverted, he slipped from the tree branch he was perched on and sought the source of the distant song.

He walked in the dark for several minutes in the gloom of the riverbank forest, straining to capture the faintest trace of the heavenly music. He was quickly rewarded. A gentle sound like cool spring water wrapped around him, washing away the irritation and resentment WeiLiu felt about the gathering he had been forced to attend. The music rippled, like a drop of dew in a still pond. It rose quietly, spreading its notes like the rays of the full moon overhead, its silver translucence brushing across WeiLiu like cold silk. A cool radiance emanated from the song, appearing to illuminate the darkness around him.

WeiLiu settled between the large roots of a tree, unwilling to disturb the unseen musician. The flowing music calmed his mind and set him to thoughts of cool rivers and echoing caverns of ice. His spirit felt utterly at peace. The music spun a quiet web of tranquility.

The melody suddenly tore apart with a discordant cry, ripping into a torrent of longing and misery. Angry chords crashed like the sea in a storm, howling with anguish and despair. The song trembled pleadingly, begging for mercy and the return of the remnants of its trampled dignity. The musician wept through his instrument, exposing his heart through his shattered melody. WeiLiu felt his heart break. His jade eyes filled with tears as he listened to the longing in the music. A victim screaming desperately for help.

WeiLiu covered his mouth with his hand, hoping the musician would not discover him because of his weeping. His own heart mirrored the artist’s somewhat.

The court stifled him, choking out his passion and leaving him helpless. He knew his brothers cared for him, but that somehow made him feel more alone than ever. WeiLiu wiped his eyes, choking on his own emotion. The song wept out a single, trembling sob, before falling silent, its end unplayed. WeiLiu gathered himself and stood, his face pale with sorrow. He pushed through the trees until he came to the source of the heartbreaking music.

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The forest broke upon a clearing hidden in its current. WeiLiu moved as quietly as he could, but the musician heard him and slipped away in a flash of bright white, a color reminiscent of bones beneath the pale moon. WeiLiu could not see him, but he could hear the player’s panicked breathing behind a tree on the opposite side of the clearing. WeiLiu walked slowly into the open, his throat tight with his emotion. He set the bottle of MingTian on a flat stone in the center of the small meadow. Taking a deep breath, he addressed the musician.

“Friend, I am not going to be presumptuous in guessing what calamity could have incited you to weave such a melody. Your music has moved me. I respect you for your talent and mastery of your craft. I want to leave you a token of my admiration, but I have little with me to give. I hope you will accept my small gift. I sincerely wish you the best life has to offer. It sounds as if you need it. With my insignificant praise, I will take my leave.” WeiLiu turned to go but paused.

“Thank you.” He whispered, before racing away with a pounding heart, the music still ringing in his ears.

After he had gone, a luminous white robe brushed softly through the grass and a lily white hand lifted the flask of wine, its slender fingers tracing the vessel’s delicate shape.

“What a strange human.” The possessor of the melodious voice knelt quietly on the grass, lifted the wine to his lips, and drank deeply.

WeiLiu jolted awake. He sat up in bed and rubbed his temples. He had a splitting headache. He remembered walking back to his palace alone, in a dazed state of mind. His servants had nearly died of fright when they saw him walking like a corpse up to the doorstep. He spotted a glass of water thoughtfully placed on his bedside table. He picked it up and drained it. WeiLiu banged the empty glass down on the table and yelled.

“XueBao, get down here!” he flopped onto his bed and sat staring fiercely at the black robed figure that dropped from the rafters above him. XueBao knelt and looked up at him.

“Yes, my lord?”

“Go make a list of all the people who own land on the opposite bank of the river between the beginning and end of the boat trip yesterday. Make special note of those who own forested land. Bring it to me by tonight.” WeiLiu stood and exited the room. The black figure bowed and vanished, wondering what could have driven his master to give such a strange order.

WeiLiu sat in his garden and tried to listen to his birds like he normally did. But peace evaded him, and he paced restlessly back and forth, the memory of the heart broken music drowning out everything around him.

“My lord. My lord! MY LORD!!” Xiao Mao had shouted herself hoarse trying to catch his attention. WeiLiu jerked around. His servant was doubled over, panting.

“I tried to stop them because you seemed out of sorts, but they got in anyway. I'm sorry.”

WeiLiu looked behind her and saw his three older brothers standing there, expressions of extreme worry painted clearly on their faces.

“What are you doing here?” he asked absently, casting listlessly about for nothing in particular. QinYing strode swiftly over and grasped him by the shoulder.

“Look at me, WeiLiu. Look at me!”

WeiLiu glanced up at his tall sibling with disinterest. Then he turned around and ignored him.

“Go away. I don’t want to talk to you.” He said dully. QinYing grabbed him from behind and pulled him into a bear hug. WeiLiu struggled to escape, but failed. QinYing restrained him and dragged him into a quiet sitting room in WeiLiu’s residence. WeiLiu gave up and lay limply in his arms, his beautiful jade green eyes unfocused and fitful. QinYing laid him face down on the carpeted floor and pulled his arms behind him, holding him so he couldn’t get up. Xin and WeiZhe sat on the floor next to him. WeiZhe poked WeiLiu’s face with his long finger.

“What’s wrong with you? Did you hate the party that much? What happened? You look ill.” His concerned voice ruffled WeiLiu’s mood.

“The birds can’t make music like him. They can’t play for me like he did. I don’t like them. Make them go away. They make me sick.”

His brothers looked shocked.

“W–what, what happened to you?! You want to get rid of your birds? The only thing you care about? Who is this person? Who made you like this?!” WeiZhe almost sounded like he was about to cry. WeiLiu stared blankly at him.

“Why does his music sound more like crying than a person who is? I’m tired of waiting for XueBao. He’d better get back soon. I want to find Yue.” WeiLiu rambled darkly.

“Who is Yue?” WeiZhe looked confused, as did the other two. WeiLiu shook off QinYing and rolled onto his back.

“I don’t know his name. but I heard him under the moon. So I think calling him Yue makes sense. XueBao, hurry up already.” He groaned in depressed frustration.

“I need to find him! I need to help him! I need to get him out of wherever he is! I want him to play for me!”

A look of understanding slowly dawned on QinYing’s face.

“WeiLiu, are you perhaps wanting something? Like actually wanting something for yourself? Not for someone else, but just you?”

WeiZhe and Xin looked startled. WeiLiu suddenly slammed his fist into the carpet, his eyes tight shut.

“No! Yes! Maybe? I don’t know! I want to save him from whatever made his song like that! I’ve never felt so helpless before! I can still hear his music haunting me!”

QinYing and WeiZhe exchanged a glance.

“What kind of person is Yue?” asked WeiZhe cautiously. WeiLiu sat up slowly and gave him a somber look.

“Yue knows what being alone feels like.” He said quietly, his eyes dark with remembrance. Xin sighed and QinYing clenched his fists and bowed his head. WeiZhe looked sad. The three of them cared deeply about WeiLiu. While they knew they didn’t completely understand him, they understood how lonely he was and that they were not the right people to alleviate that sorrow. WeiZhe made a fierce face and grabbed WeiLiu’s hands earnestly.

“I’ll help you find Yue.” He said, breathless with anxious excitement, all traces of his cold and elegant demeanor vanishing like mist in the sun. QinYing and Xin both hugged WeiLiu and made similar promises. The three eldest princes abandoned their imperial duties and spent the rest of the day prying the story of the night before from their brother’s lips and sending their shadow guards to assist XueBao in his task. In the late afternoon, the door to the sitting room was pushed open by a high ranking servant who bowed and announced the presence of the emperor. The princes’ father, Long FengLong, walked in, his tall, imposing frame filling up the doorway.

“You three left your posts. What on earth is going-“

“Not right now, father.” WeiZhe interrupted.

“We’re busy taking care of WeiLiu.” he turned his back to Long FengLong. QinYing stood, walked to the door, and closed it in the emperor’s face. Outside the room, the high ranked servant stared dumbfounded at the ruler of the country. Long FengLong swished his robe around and strode away, laughing quietly to himself.

“Good, good. Those brothers love each other. I’m glad.” He muttered smiling.