An Jing took the flute and looked again at the one in Xiao Changyi’s hand, engraved with the word "Jing Er," her smile so broad: "My dear husband, if you do this, you’ll make me think you really like me."
Xiao Changyi looked at her askance: "I just really like you?"
Caught off guard by his question, An Jing was momentarily stunned, then her smile bloomed like a flower: "Of course you don’t just really like me, you really, really, really... like me! In your heart, there’s nothing more important than me!"
Xiao Changyi indeed nodded in satisfaction: "Mm."
An Jing’s smile instantly made her eyes vanish.
After dinner and a bath, as the couple sat on the bed, An Jing began to play the flute Xiao Changyi had made for her.
Thinking it over, she decided to play "Liangzhou Song" for Xiao Changyi.
The song was elegant and majestic, luxurious and regal, intricate and well-structured, with a melody most graceful; and the flute’s lingering sound brought out the piece’s essence to perfection.
Even after the music had stopped, one remained immersed in it, unable to pull away.
An Jing too needed a moment before she could speak, and then she asked, "My dear husband, what do you think of my playing?"
"Very good." After a pause, Xiao Changyi added, "It’s as if I’ve seen the scene before a battle, where people drink heartily and indulge to their heart’s content."
An Jing exclaimed in amazement: "You can actually hear that?" Could it be because her dear husband had been on the battlefield?
Xiao Changyi was also surprised: "Is it really so?"
"Yes!" An Jing nodded emphatically. "This song has a corresponding poem, called ’Liangzhou Word,’ which only has four lines: ’Grapes fine wine night-lit cups, desire to drink but the pipa urges on. Drunkenly lying on the sands, don’t ridicule, how many return from ancient battles?’"
"Drunkenly lying on the sands, don’t ridicule, how many return from ancient battles..." Xiao Changyi murmured these lines, and finally, he drew An Jing into his embrace, holding her tight, his chin resting on the top of her head. After a long while, he whispered in a volume almost inaudible: "I’m glad I came back alive."
Instantly, An Jing was reminded of Xiao Changyi’s previous intent to die on the battlefield, and her heart clenched in pain, deep and acute.
Hugging Xiao Changyi back, An Jing also held him tightly.
No matter where this man would be in the future, she would follow; if he were to go into battle again, she would go too.
She would not let him be alone again, nor did she want to be alone again. They would live together or die together; no one would separate them.
The couple held each other for a long time, until the mood was no longer so oppressive, and then An Jing laughed: "My dear husband, let me play another for you, something a bit more cheerful this time."
Then, An Jing began to play again, this time "The Most Romantic Thing," originally a song. There was a line she particularly liked: The most romantic thing I can think of is growing old with you, slowly."
As Xiao Changyi listened to An Jing playing the flute, he watched her fingers on the flute and when An Jing started to repeat the tune for the second time, he picked up his flute and played along with her.
Hearing that Xiao Changyi could also play, An Jing was so shocked that she momentarily stopped, both her mouth and hands halting. Soon after, she smiled, continued to play, and played "The Most Romantic Thing" together with Xiao Changyi.
Their flute playing was extremely harmonious.
As they played, they looked at each other; not only did both of their eyes carry a smile, full of affection, but both of their lips also bore a smile—one’s a bit bigger, the other’s barely noticeable.