A Love Song Through Intertwined Timelines

Chapter 3: Requiem Strings

Dawn Dew and Sheet Music

At the hour of Yin (3-5 AM), dew still clung to the strings of the harp. Nirada had already begun tuning the twelve-string konghou (an ancient Chinese harp) in the temple hall. She rearranged the silk strings soaked in jasmine-infused water, her fingertips gliding over them to produce the melody of Rain Spirit. The music startled the egrets nesting under the eaves. Hidden in the corridor’s shadows, Princess Supatcha listened to this forbidden song composed three centuries ago by her grand-aunt, her prayer beads suddenly snapping.

"Would Mother care to hear the full piece?" Nirada didn’t turn around, sensing the princess’s pearl-embroidered slippers sinking into moss. When the seventh string resonated with the "rippling tremolo"—a technique unique to Princess Lanna—Supatcha’s jade earring clattered to the floor. This method was only recorded in the family’s secret musical notation, long destroyed in a rebellion.

Sandalwood Ledgers

Prince Jirawat pushed open the accounting room door as sandalwood smoke curled from a bronze censer. He found his son sketching with vermilion ink on yellowed rice paper. The torn diagrams of ancient zither repairs, once shredded by the original host, now transformed into blueprints for an orphanage’s music hall.

"Father, look." Nirada dipped her wolf-hair brush into gold powder. "The armory can become a domed concert hall; broken weapon racks can be melted into chimes." Her finger traced the jasmine carvings on the beams. "These timbers are from the Songchai family shrine that Nawa... that I burned."

The prince’s cane struck the floor. He noticed the calculations in the margins—using celestial alignments to derive acoustic structures—a lost Jirawat technique called "Harmonic Architecture." When Nirada unconsciously carved her grand-aunt’s seal into the inkstone’s edge, he relented: "Tomorrow, the steward will take you to the vault for instruments."

Bloodstained Music Box

Rain lashed the orphanage’s crumbling Virgin Mary statue. Nirada knelt on damp floorboards, adjusting the pipe organ, when her hand brushed a rusted tin inside the resonance chamber. Inside, wilted jasmine petals cradled a music box with a photo—a "souvenir" from five years ago, when the original host bullied hearing-impaired children here.

"Surprised?" Pam’s stiletto ground into the photo, her agate-red nails tilting Nirada’s chin. "Back then, you said you’d teach these ‘mice’ what real music sounds like." She clicked the music box, its warped Wedding March mingling with children’s screams.

Nirada’s carving knife suddenly pierced her palm. She pressed the bloodied blade against the keys: "If I fill this place with true music, will you help me bring the children back?" Pam’s laughter died. She watched Nirada sketch her grand-aunt’s musical symbols in blood on the score.

Hall of Rebirth

On the eve of the charity concert, Nirada discovered a thirty-string fengshou konghou (phoenix-headed harp) in the vault. As she tuned the nineteenth string, a hidden compartment sprang open, revealing a charred diary—Requiem Hall Music Theory, written by Princess Lanna before her execution. A dried jasmine flower tucked between pages turned to gold dust in the moonlight, forming a star map of the orphanage.

"Mother, do you know what this is?" Nirada rushed into the temple with the score. Princess Supatcha was chanting before her grand-aunt’s portrait, the harp in the painting engraved with the orphanage’s coordinates. When rain shattered the stained glass, the princess finally whispered: "This orphanage... was once Aunt Lanna’s sanctuary for war orphans..."

Twin Resonance

At dawn, Nirada tied jasmine bracelets on each child. As she played the requiem adapted from Requiem Hall, the cracked dome refracted a rainbow halo. Priya stood behind the farthest pillar, watching the hearing-impaired children dance to vibrations—their cochlear implants, once destroyed by the original host, now attuned to ancient frequencies.

The prince trembled as he pulled out a pocket watch. The miniature portrait of his grand-aunt inside mirrored Nirada’s bowed posture at the harp. When Rain Spirit’s finale echoed, jasmine blossoms on Lanna’s portrait unfurled, real petals drifting into Nirada’s hair.

Blood Harp

Under moonlight at the celebration banquet, Nirada polished the phoenix-headed harp. The third string snapped, slicing her finger. Blood dripped into the soundhole, revealing crimson incantations on the harp’s body. She traced the carvings to a hidden layer in the resonance chamber and pulled out half a bloodstained chain—identical to Princess Lanna’s drowning shackles.

Princess Supatcha’s scream pierced the night. She snatched the chain, her face contorted: "This should be in Aunt Lanna’s coffin! Who are you?" Clouds swallowed the moon as the strings trembled autonomously, playing the Soul Redemption Tune mentioned in Lanna’s final letter.

Annotations for Cultural Context:

Konghou (**): An ancient Chinese harp with a history spanning over 2,000 years.

Yin Hour (**): Traditional Chinese timekeeping, corresponding to 3-5 AM.

Harmonic Architecture (*****): A fictional acoustic design technique tied to celestial patterns.

Fengshou Konghou (****): A type of konghou decorated with a phoenix head, symbolizing nobility.

Soul Redemption Tune (***): A fictional musical piece believed to purify sins in the story.