Chapter 181: A Soulful lody, Where Can One Find a Kindred Spirit Across the Horizon?
There was no way he could eat this.
It didn’t matter if there was sothing wrong with the at or if the food itself had been tampered with—eating it would definitely spell trouble.
But refusing to eat might an missing the opportunity to board that ship.
So, shooting a subtle glance toward Sveta beside him, Bai Luo picked up the lunchbox and began eating.
Sveta: "..."
At least, that’s what it looked like to the soldiers—Bai Luo and his companion appeared to have finished their al without leaving a single grain of rice behind.
The Shogunate soldier gave a satisfied nod at the sight of the spotless lunchboxes and took them away without further comnt.
Bai Luo, expression unchanged, lightly tapped the sand beneath his foot to check on what he had hidden there. Once he was certain it was secure, he stepped into the tent.
The starry sky above Teyvat was unlike the one in his mories.
Though the Milky Way sprawled across the heavens in dazzling brilliance, it lacked the subtle twinkling and liveliness he rembered. It felt almost... too still.
After their als, the refugees either returned to their spots to sleep or gathered in small groups, chatting about what kind of life they hoped to live once they reached Inazuma City.
So had even snuck away into secluded corners, whispering excitedly about welcoming a newborn once they reached safety.
An elderly man sat leisurely near the camp, pulling out a carefully wrapped musical instrunt from his pack.
It was a shamisen—a traditional three-stringed instrunt, not unlike the sanxian of Liyue. A symbol of Inazuman culture.
As the old man began to play, a few won nearby, captivated by the lody, started to dance along to the tune. The gentle rhythm gradually infected the surrounding refugees, and before long, more and more people joined in.
It almost looked like the beginning of a bonfire festival.
The soldiers didn’t try to stop them.
So long as these refugees didn’t try to flee or cause trouble, there was no need to make things harder for them.
Bai Luo, however, wasn’t paying attention to the dancing crowd. His eyes were fixed on the old man’s side.
This old fellow must have had a deep love for music. While others fled with their families and valuables, he had brought along an assortnt of instrunts instead—no clothes, no money, just music.
Nestled carefully on a rickety wooden wheelbarrow and protected with layers of oilcloth, the instrunts ca from all over: Natlan, Fontaine, Liyue, Mondstadt, Inazuma...
A dozen different instrunts, large and small.
Bai Luo, curious, stepped forward to take a closer look—only to have the old man swat his hand away with surprising force.
"Kid, these aren’t things you can just touch. Hands off."
The shamisen’s lody ceased, but the atmosphere it had stirred lingered. Even without the music, the dance continued—unrefined, uncoordinated, but joyful nonetheless.
"Is that... an erhu?" Bai Luo asked, pointing at one of the oilcloth-covered instrunts.
Though it was mostly hidden, he was fairly certain of what it was—mories of his past resurfacing.
He had learned the erhu once. He still rembered that eccentric, sunglasses-wearing, goatee-sporting instructor who had praised him effusively.
"Your child’s a genius. I can’t teach him anymore—you should find him a better ntor," the man had said.
Rumor had it that the sa night, the teacher shut down his entire music school out of sha.
Bai Luo had paid for six months of lessons. He only got three days’ worth.
"You know what that is?" the old man asked, raising an eyebrow.
Just saying the word erhu was proof enough—this boy wasn’t just guessing. He knew.
Here in Inazuma, the only people the old man had t who recognized the instrunt were a strange girl who claid to be an adventurer from Liyue... and now, Bai Luo.
The old man had tried learning to play it himself, but never made much progress.
"Want to play a tune for you?" Bai Luo offered, unable to stop his fingers from twitching.
Sothing about seeing that erhu made his hands itch with anticipation. He had to show these Inazumans what a real instrunt sounded like.
"What, you can actually play this thing?" the old man asked skeptically, giving Bai Luo a once-over.
From his travel-worn, vagabond-like appearance, he didn’t seem like soone who could handle such a refined instrunt.
"I can," Bai Luo said with complete confidence.
After all, he was the guy who had literally shut down his erhu teacher’s school.
At the very least, he had so skills to back it up.
Bai Luo’s unwavering confidence seed to infect the old man.
"Fine. If your playing isn’t half bad, I don’t see why I shouldn’t gift you the instrunt."
Without hesitation, the old man set down his shamisen and gently pulled out the erhu, its surface well-maintained, its strings taut and gleaming despite the journey. Before handing it over, he carefully wiped away a few lingering watermarks—likely from the rain earlier.
It was clear the old man truly cherished his instrunts.
But Bai Luo didn’t imdiately reach for it. Instead, he dragged over a wooden bucket to use as a makeshift stool. Only once seated did he accept the erhu, placing it against the inside of his left thigh.
Even before he played a single note, the old man’s eyes lit up in recognition.
Yes—that posture. That was exactly how one should hold the instrunt!
This kid wasn’t bluffing. He did know how to play.
From the way Bai Luo sat to the way he handled the bow, everything scread precision. The old man, with all his years of experience, could instantly tell that this was the real deal.
No wonder he himself had never been able to draw a proper sound from the erhu... Turns out, he’d been holding it wrong the entire ti.
Bai Luo took a deep breath.
Then, slowly, he pulled the bow across the strings.
A deep, lingering note drifted across the beach, carried far by the salty sea breeze. The sound was mournful—haunting, even—woven with threads of sorrow and lancholy that seed to reach into the heart. Even the crashing waves appeared to quiet, subdued by the music.
The delicate notes floated like mist, curling and twisting in the air like drifting clouds.
"Alright, STOP! I told you already—no carpentry in the refugee camp! Who the hell is sawing wood?!"
A soldier’s furious voice jolted Bai Luo out of his trance.
He looked up to find the old man had retreated several ters away, clutching his cart as if fleeing a natural disaster. The dancing refugees had frozen mid-movent, curling into nervous balls, casting terrified glances his way.
Even Sveta, who had been faithfully at his side until now, had silently taken half a step back.
For soone blind, her hearing was exceptional—far more sensitive than most. The fact that she only backed away half a step... was, honestly, quite impressive.
"Ahem... This is, um, an erhu. It’s a musical instrunt. Not... a saw," Bai Luo said, clearing his throat awkwardly.
The soldier clearly wasn’t buying it.
"You think I don’t know a saw when I hear one? I was a carpenter before I joined the Shogunate! That right there was the sound of soone cutting planks, pal!"
"..."
Forget it. There’s no reasoning with the deaf.
A lody to shatter the soul, yet no kindred spirit across this vast land to truly understand it...
It was their loss, not his.
He still rembered that little grove in front of his childhood ho. Every ti he practiced the erhu there, birds would burst from the trees as if summoned—like the legendary Hundred Birds Paying Homage to the Phoenix.
So even landed beside him, quietly listening.
And when he finished his piece, none of them left. They lingered in awe—so laying belly-up in admiration, others bowing as if worshipping a deity.
Even the neighborhood’s most notorious cat—fad for catching birds with ruthless precision—would lie down alongside them, completely forgetting its instinct to hunt.
Humans, corrupted by worldly desires, had long since lost their appreciation for true art... for the purity of music.
Nature’s creatures, on the other hand—they knew.
They felt the divine lody that flowed from his bow.
Sigh...
Maybe next ti he should play at the shallows near Asase Shrine instead. The cats there would probably appreciate his erhu more than this bunch of uncultured mortals.
. . . . .
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