A lowly musician who is said to be adored by all plays a tranquil tune that was sensational to the human ear.
His bow was made out of the hairs of a stallion, gliding across the Ehru that he received as a gift from his master before he passed away a long time ago, enchanting the large mass that had formed around him.
He had perched himself on a tattered rug that had seen better days in the far right corner of the cobbled street, almost tucked away in an alleyway that could be found in the heart of the Tang Empire.
No one seemed to care about his social standing which could be told by the attire that he wore.
The crowd was too engrossed in the sound that he was producing with a stroke of his wrist to notice the finer details that would have mattered if they were sane.
It was as if they were in a trance, tuning out the world around them only to focus on the sound that took them to a peaceful state of mind
The music he orchestrated sounded like it came from the heavens themselves, a lullaby sung by the angels, pure and delicate.
It was as if the Jade Emperor sent the mysterious man down to earth to whisk all their troubles away from the growing war between two rival nations through the power of sound.
The crowd was drawn to him like a moth drawn to a flame, addicted to the high that they were given. They could not get enough of the divine melody!
The mysterious man was not too much to look at.
His beauty was hidden away from the dirt stains that plagued his body, and his attire.
His garments were tremendously grimy from the years of being outside in the slums, being forced to endure the harsh elements that were given to him because society failed him.
He had only a few articles of clothing to his name; yet somehow he was wearing one of his finest that he only wore for this particular occasion that he partook in once a month to honor his master.
He wore it to conceal his identity from onlookers.
The mask was in the shape of a dragoon.
A symbol that is considered to be good luck and possess strength.
The only other thing that was truly notable about the man's appearance other than the mask was his long snowy, white hair that seemed to glow underneath the moonlight that graced the Empire.
It looked soft to the touch like fluffy white clouds.
The man looked like a foreigner to the spectators that gathered around him.
It was an odd sight to behold because no one wanted to travel to the capital and face the wrath of the cold-blooded Emperor.
It was a risk no one wanted to take; as a result, foreigners traveled elsewhere in search of goods to trade.
They did not want to die an early death.
The man had become a living mystery; thus, the spike in his popularity increased as word got around in the empire through various methods
. People from all over the kingdom would travel near and far to hear his music, avoiding the emperor's wrath.
The masked man would appear every full moon at the same spot that had become dedicated to his memorable performance without fail.
At the end of his showcase, he would disappear like he was never there in the first place.
It was as if he was a spirit still attached to the mortal realm, wandering the streets with song.
He became known as the Ghost Musician, a living legend that has been told by many; therefore, numerous rumors were created in his wake and found themselves in the unlike-test of places, including the ears of the Tang Emperor who was in desperate need of his services.
The musician was playing his enchanting tune when he felt an aura that he had never felt in his lifetime. It felt too sinister to be considered human, making those crumble in submission.
The music had come to a halt, snapping the large mass of human bodies back into reality. The sublime feeling they felt was now replaced with fear.
The musician looked up from his instrument only to see a large group of individuals walking towards him as the crowd parted, making room for the unknown group cowering in horror while bowing low to the ground.
There was one man that caught the eye of the musician, and that was the man that was leading the group.
He walked drenched in confidence, draped in all forms of gold from head to toe.
He carried an aura that could rival the dragons themselves and put them into a restless slumber from fright with one look.
The musician felt as if he was the prey caught in a trap by the predator in front of him; yet he was not afraid of the man, unlike the others before him.
The man covered in gold held a fan to protect him from the heat of the summer's wrath.
His garments were made out of the finest silks that the Tang Empire had to offer.
The musician could tell that he was someone of high status.
There were two men by his side cladded in metal that bared the Emperor's crest while resting their hands onto their blades.
They were afraid of an enemy attack that could happen at any moment if they put their guard down, especially in a place like they were currently.
Women dressed in fancy garments that matched each other followed behind the man with authority, holding umbrellas that were in the shape of a leaf.
The man dressed in gold came to a halt in front of the musician.
The musician stared at the man in an uncomfortable silence that was shared between the two until the man broke it.
"Are you the one they call the Ghost Musician?"
YOU ARE READING
The Emperor and The White Lily(BxB)
Fantasy(Book 1) There was an Emperor who ruled with an Iron fist. Secretly, he wanted to feel the love of someone he could not have; however, the fates twisted his red string beyond repair. He is forced to marry someone he does not love for the sake of...
