No, she definitely doesn’t. I sent my servant to look into that. He said, there was no title in that generation from Jinghai or Dajin. ‘White Lotus’ seems to be the only earned title in years that came from Jinghai. And don’t talk of obscure -! You heard me talk of her description from the commoners. She was anything but an obscure character. This amnesia regarding this aunt of Weijia seems rather a characteristic of the nobles and affluent people. The commoners talk a lot. And this makes it stranger still – that a maid who had accompanied for so long would be silenced just for talking about a dead woman, about whom many other mouths can speak at random.” Song Muchen walked up to his friend and sat beside him. His friend extended a cup of tea and pushed it into his hands.

“Or it might be a common secret that everyone agreed to not talk about – a taboo. Something ignominious would have happened for that to occur, but its not like our old men don’t put restrictions on people, all the time.” Unknowingly it was Sui Mo who came a little closer to the truth.

“Is that so? But her disappearance, doesn’t that make you wonder? I wonder.” Song Muchen, sitting beside the shadowed youth, drawled as he twirled the porcelain cup in his hands while leaning half-heartedly against the pavilion wall. There was something in that strange pronouncement that everyone suddenly ceased to talk and seemed to collectively gaze at Song Muchen. His strangely unfocused eyes, his hideous smile or the strange way the light seems to fall on his pale face – the grey of the foreground seemed to seize him in its hold and steal away all emotions. He was left like a stone, a piece carved and still.

All of them had been sitting down on the carpet spread against the marbled floor of the pavilion, many silver platters full of porcelain cups and kettles holding mellowest wines and best of the tea in them ladled there, accompanied by flower shaped pastries put in small servings. A vine of white button rose swept towards the eaves of the pavilion roof, overarching with the bougainvillea's – a breathtaking mix of white and red. But not as mesmerizing as the tale of a fallen beauty.

"Where must she be? Where must she..." He sang in a sing-song manner. 'Lie dead,' he completed the sentence in his heart while thinking, 'as she deserved.' Perhaps amongst the weeds, unknown, forever haunting a mound of forgetfulness. Just like in people’s memories, forever sealed – until someone brought it out to enrich a stale conversation.

This sudden interruption garnered the attention of all the young men sitting there. There was something strange in Song Muchen’s eyes that was forbidding them from dwelling further in that topic. A few of them even rose up and walked away to escape the depressing atmosphere. Of the few who stayed, many refused to take a part in the conversation while others simply began to pick up pastries, or pouring tea and wine. There was a long, astounding silence that stretch between them. AnJin exchanged a glance with Sui Mo. Yu Mingyang although refrained from reaching out to Luo Chen, they both were frozen in their places and just kept nibbling at the small piece of cake they held in their hands. everyone seemed to have realized that the beauty might as well have aroused a very personal recollection in this young master Song Muchen’s mind.

"Ceased to exist. Poof! Disappeared." Seeing no one ready to talk, Song Muchen animatedly swung the empty cup, his eyes crinkled with amusement with unknown knowledge. "As if the world had never known a person like her. Don’t you find it interesting? Just like the eldest son of the Rongs? You might have never heard that Minister of Royal Affairs, old Master Rong, had such a son, have you? Someone who died a shameful death under his horse’s hoof –! Puch! Isn’t that hilarious! A good horseman died under his beloved horse’s steps, his head smashed to pieces, his hands pulled off –! A promising youngster fell off the horses and fell so deep that there was left none of his ashes, nor a memory to recall. Just like we never heard of an aunt from Weijia, we might never hear of a young Master Rong. I even heard someone recall how the now Master of Rong family swore that he would have Wei Houyu's head to appease the soul of his dead brother. Such empty words had never been spoken in the history of the world! What do you say, my friend?"

In reply, the shadowed youth, his friend, chuckled and raised his hands to get a cup of wine for himself.

There was nothing but silence in the gathering. Everyone was too embarrassed to continue in this all too personal talk. All of them could see that a pain nerve had struck in Song Muchen's heart.

“Interesting…” An Jin tried to say but halted. “But yes, you, brother Song were quite right when you talked of this specific…attitude. Who cares what happens later when the murdered was but a servant? The reason it would have been popular in the commoners is quite within this reason – they don’t differentiate in classes as much as we do. For them, perhaps the lady in waiting of a daughter from Wei house was as noble as any noble can ever be! They talk of us a lot, just like they talk of every strange happening. But for us – who dwell on the decorum, the righteousness of our motives, a small servant losing her life is no news – how strange is that? What is news is that she had been attached to someone, who did eventually with her class and rank, make a mere servant memorable. I don’t condone murder, as I don’t condone the hierarchy that we so deliberately emphasize in Dajin. Our ancients didn’t live like this – and we, as their progeny should have followed in the tradition. If the murder happened in a certain backyard, or it happens to have long implication for our society, then it should be brought forth to light, like any case of commoner attempting murder would have been. Our forefathers didn’t envision the justice to be served only to few!”

“And what about the social implication of wreaking havoc in the society, if your words do come true one day, where no one knows his boundaries or his duty to fate and destiny? You talk much but what you talk is a dream of many, but cannot live a day in our rule bound world. True, our ancients never had the classes – no one was nobler than the other. But they had distinctions in the family – when Nuwa set out to make humans, though the soul was noble for all, but some of the humans were truly born of humble soil! And they were given different roles, say, than the ones given to us nobles. The heaven is all for us – commoners and nobles alike, but the roles we are born to are different and equally true.” Yu Mingyang spoke. He looked up at the silent master Song Muchen and the rest who, following the example of An Jin began to withdraw into closer circles of two or three, each discussing their own things.

“But Nuwa was no goddess of our ancestors! It might have been for those in Daxia, but Dajin always believed in a Mother goddess - the one who created the Moon goddess who we adore!” An Jin replied heatedly. “The seven-day churning of the ocean in mother goddess’s womb that became the amniotic fluid, out of which sprang out Tianxin, and other continents or the forging of souls in the water of Star filled River, or adorning OUR soul with flesh of Soulless Soil – where do you see our ancestors differentiating amongst themselves? We were all born from the same river, our bodies from the same soil!”

“Stop quoting something that our scholars no longer believe! What are you even reading, An Jin. Are you sure its not some heathenish account of Nuwa’s creation?”

“You won’t believe that this is a tale that all our people believe in. Only we nobles and people who read, and maybe a handful from the commoners as well, take Nuwa’s creation of us as the truth!”

“Let’s save this discussion for later, shall we? I am going out with Luo Chen. Those in the gardens are having some amazing games. Care to join us?” rising on his feet, Yu Mingyang looked at his companion.

“You go. I will join later, with Sui Mo.”

“We will wait for you then.”

With that An Jin too stood up, joining Sui Mo who had his feet dangling in the cold water, his pants raised up to his knees. He was looking lazily at the rippling water, the nodding heads of blooming lotuses and some of their pods. An Jin sat beside him, then similarly immersed his ankles into the water. They didn’t talk. But there were some furtive glances at the two chatting lads in the back. Master Song seemed to have regained his earlier bearing. Or something of it.

“I forgot.” It was Sui Mo who opened up this time, although his voice almost inaudible. “I had a nanny from Jinghai. Growing up, she would talk a lot about this place. There was this major, major thing that happened here in Jinghai in the past that even my nanny had to be sent back. No one talked about it. It was something akin to a taboo – I actually eavesdropped on my mothers and her maid’s conversation. I was furious they had done that to my mama and was so angry that I hid in her room and one thing led to another, but I remembered hearing a strange tale in there. I wouldn’t have recalled it if it wasn’t brother Song acting all so weird. Song Muchen's aunt… was once engaged with the erstwhile eldest son of the Rong's who was crazy for beauty Wei CuiHua, the youngest sister of Master Houyu. A bloody tale of love that left everyone dead, I remember my mother talking. Don’t guess me wrong, I didn’t know the names of course – but later when I turned fifteen, I secretly met with my nanny to know how she was doing. She was good, had earned money enough to settle down – my parents, you know are not that hard on their subordinates. It was there I finally chained my memories of childhood to actual, real names.”

“Yes…it really doesn’t sound like something our parents would talk of. It cannot all be far from the truth you said. I did actually know of a family feud between the Songs and the Rong’s of Jinghai. It’s quite a common knowledge in capital.”

A cautionary tale. But for someone who had someone close linked to that story -? They both whispered amongst themselves, seldom looking at the man who was engrossed in his wine cup, Song Muchen.

"The auspicious time has arrived; the ceremony is going to start. Do you want to meet with Wei Yize before he begins the ceremony? I think some of you haven't gifted him yet. Let's go, I’ll show you the way." Rong Yichen, who was a well-known figure in the Imperial Academy, stood a few steps outside the pavilion. At this moment, he bent his head to lean in while facing his friends and inviting them out, unaware of the little incident that had soured everyone’s mood.

"Yes, the auspicious time." Song Muchen spoke with sarcasm filling his eyes, but still didn't move.

"We should go."

Somebody finally spoke and rose up taking the lead.

Soon the others filed into the well-lit Hall.

The congratulations rang one after other. Laughter melted into cheers and toasts of wine. The elders had left the aisle for the youngers to have more fun. Soon the garden was separated into two portions and the rhythmic files of maids and servants began from the inner chambers arranging colorful delights that tasted as heavenly as they appeared to be.

Mesmerizing dishes and charming laughter of men and maiden, mingled in the air. The banquet wasn't silent till late night, when the house once more descended in its gloomy appearance. As if the merrymaking had been but a part of the silent mourning that was still enduring on.