Don’t know why, after listening to the song played by Ye Qiu, Miss Jia thought of many things.

Even when Ye Qiu stopped playing, Miss Jia seemed yet to come back to herself.

Seeing Miss Jia’s expression, Ye Qiu couldn’t help but feel that this world is indeed peculiar.

When will the bright moon appear? Wine in hand, I ask the clear sky. In heaven’s halls, what year is this? I wish to ride the wind and return, Yet fear the crystal towers’ chill so high. Dancing with my clear shadow, what differs from the human realm?

Ye Qiu played another tune.

This tune was inspired by Su Shi’s "Water Ballad: Bright Moon, When Will You Appear," because he noticed Miss Jia’s expression and immediately thought of the present.

He realized this tune was quite fitting.

"Do not know what year tonight is?"

"Young Master Ye is indeed a talent."

Miss Jia remarked.

"Could it be that Miss Jia is not a beauty?"

Upon hearing Ye Qiu’s words, Miss Jia seemed slightly blushing.

Upon closer look, her beauty appeared even more charming.

But, alas, she was merely a ghost?

Now, the two seemed to have stopped singing and playing.

"Young Master Ye, may you accompany me for a heart-to-heart talk, and some wine?"

Miss Jia inquired.

"It seems I implied that to you."

As Miss Jia lightly covered her mouth, expressing a faint whisper, the two sat on the ground before the low table, as a beauty fetched the fine wine.

Pouring two cups, separately.

Miss Jia used one hand to shield her mouth, and the other to slowly sip the wine.

Such elegance, that none of today’s women could compare, nor would they have such grace now.

Watching Ye Qiu not touch the cup of wine on the table, she asked, "Young Master Ye, do you not like wine?"

"I do drink, but am not accustomed to this type."

"So that’s it."

At this moment, Miss Jia held Ye Qiu in high regard, thinking of him as a polite scholar.

In ancient times, being a scholar was the highest form of praise for a person.

As the social hierarchy divided into scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants.

Miss Jia, as a courtesan, was considered an actor, the lowest status in ancient times, unlike today’s celebrities of high status, making money easily.

After all, actors were merely for amusement.

"Young Master Ye is a scholar?"

Miss Jia asked again.

"Yes."

"What official position do you hold now?"

Official position?

What official position?

What position did Ye Qiu hold?

He was somewhat confused about what Miss Jia meant?

"Does Young Master Ye not have any titles yet?"

"I do not."

"With your talents, I believe you will certainly obtain the title of top scholar."

Top scholar?

Ye Qiu indeed topped five subjects in the national exams.

Isn’t that the top scholar?

"Top scholar? I have obtained that long ago, but have no interest in officialdom."

No interest in officialdom?

How could that be?

Is being an official not a good prospect?

Miss Jia was quite surprised by the young man before her.

In ancient times, one could marry and have children at twelve and become a prime minister; such was talent. Ye Qiu, clearly older than twelve, had the talent of a top scholar, so he could become a high official!

Unexpectedly, this young man before her had no interest in pursuing officialdom.

Miss Jia couldn’t fathom.

"What does Young Master Ye do now?"

What does he do?

Ye Qiu was now a student and doctor. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

"I suppose I’m a doctor now!"

Doctor?

In ancient times, though doctors healed and saved lives, they held relatively high status among common folks, yet, in the hierarchy, they were not high, merely middle of the pack among the nine ranks.

Miss Jia never imagined this young man would abandon officialdom to become a mere doctor; such a waste!

Moreover, he’s a top scholar.

In ancient times, top scholar was the hardest title to achieve.

It’s akin to coming first among the 9 million high school graduates nationally each year now.

Definitely not easy.

"Being a doctor doesn’t compare to being an official, does it?"

Miss Jia asked, looking at Ye Qiu.

Seeing Young Master Ye remain silent, Ye Qiu spoke, "I notice Miss’s complexion isn’t great; wouldn’t you mind allowing me to examine your pulse?"

Examine pulse?

In ancient times, men and women did not casually touch each other. Even though Miss Jia was a courtesan, selling art, not body, there was some embarrassment.

Ancient doctors treating officials’ wives and concubines never directly checked the pulse but diagnosed through suspended threads.

Unexpectedly, upon hearing Ye Qiu mention checking her pulse, Miss Jia first felt it abrupt, then embarrassed, quickly realizing this young man was quite remarkable.

Indeed, a top scholar who gave up high officialdom to heal and save lives — what greatness!

"Then please, Young Master, help this humble maid; I’ve been so anxious lately, feeling every day the same, lost over how many years have passed."

Unknown how many years?

Could these ghosts truly not realize they’re dead, merely a soul wandering like a mindless shadow?

Or did they acknowledge it and simply won’t admit?

Ye Qiu shook his head.

Holding out his hand to check the pulse.

Under normal circumstances, one would sense the pulse’s rhythm.

Now, as he barely touched Miss Jia’s wrist, he felt no pulse rhythm, nor the warmth of a human, but merely a chill.

Indeed, he could feel the chill, and then nothing.

To Ye Qiu, it was all an illusion; after all, these people seemed but paper figures.

How could they possess physical form?

They’re merely souls, their bodies long gone, perhaps bones vanished too.

As Ye Qiu withdrew his hand, surprisingly, Miss Jia felt like crying.

She just realized that when Ye Qiu touched her, she felt warmth.

That warmth like a light shining in the darkness, akin to a sliver of winter sunshine entering her heart.

"How am I, Young Master?" Miss Jia asked.

Just a ghost?

What illness could there be?

"Seems Miss Jia is overly contemplative; just mind regular rest."

"I’ve become accustomed to this life, feeling everyday drifting in slumber; upon waking, witnessing the brilliance and solitude under the night’s lights, lost on the passage of years, why is every year like this?"

Every year the same?

Every day the same?

Clearly, perhaps this is the world Miss Jia spoke of.

For there’s no day, only eternal night.

And at night, the world remains full of such lights and scenes.

Therefore, Miss Jia might feel every day is the same, eternally enduring so.