Dragon Lips, from whence the sound is born;
Dragon's Gums, from whence the melody emerges.
The term "Dragon's Gums" originally refers to the hard wood at the end of the qilin, supporting the strings, a key part of why the ancient instrument can produce sound.
This qilin is named Dragon's Gums.
Firstly, it signifies the true essence of the qilin's sound, capturing the meaning of great sound in silence, simplicity of the great way.
Secondly, "Dragon's Gums" and "Dragon's Roar" are homophones, indicating the extraordinary nature of this qilin's sound.
Its tone is not ethereal and aloof, but rather deep and distant, like the roar of a dragon and the howl of a tiger, majestic and soul-stirring.
Two thousand three hundred years ago, Dragon's Gums was born in the now extinct Daqi Ancient Kingdom, crafted personally by the Music Saint, Xi Mengquan.
After the fall of Daqi, it drifted across thousands of miles, arriving in the hands of Emperor Su Yu of Liang, becoming a cherished artifact stashed away.
The most widely known and miraculous tale about this qilin is the story of Xi Mengquan fetching the instrument from the Dragon Palace.
This Music Saint was unrestrained by nature, once taking a nap upon a faux rock in the courtyard, drifting into a dream, Primordial Spirit Emergence, traversing the Dragon Palace, witnessing fantastical sights unseen by humans, plucking a cluster of massive Blood Coral, unknowingly the gums of the slumbering Dragon King!
Suddenly, the earth shook, and the waves roared, what he thought was the Dragon Palace, was actually the vast body of the Dragon King!
At that moment, Xi Mengquan abruptly awakened, relieved, yet found the rock beneath him had turned into that Blood Coral!
Was it a dream or not? Reality or illusion?
Regardless, the legend holds that Xi Mengquan used this piece of Blood Coral to make the body of Dragon's Gums.
But in Chen Kuang's memories, what the musician who once bought him for a bushel of rice said was entirely different.
"Xi Mengquan never journeyed to the Dragon Palace, he had no such refined interest, the man was rather dull."
The musician tossed him a tattered score.
This score was written in braille, circulated only among musicians, akin to a secret code, unknown to outsiders.
Besides melodies, it recorded folk tales unheard of.
"Back then, he passed by Dongting Lake by boat, saw the Dragon Monarch oppressing the fishermen, forcing them to offer maidens as sacrifices, drowning them alive in pig cages, so he abandoned his boat and jumped into the lake, fiercely breaking off the Dragon Monarch's fangs."
"He released his anger, but found his sword broken, just as the broken fang still attached to the gums, he found it handy, thus washed and carved it into a sword by the lake."
The child with eyes wrapped in thick bandages listened, looked up, puzzled:
"Wasn't it a qilin?"
The musician reached out to pat his head, retorted playfully:
"How do you know it was a qilin, have you seen a qilin? Do you know what a qilin looks like?"
The child shook his head, answered honestly:
"When my family was poor, I hadn't seen one, now I cannot see."
The musician laughed:
"Things unseen, of course, whatever you think it is, it becomes."
"If you believe it to be a sword, then naturally it's a sword."
Encountering injustice, wield the sword against the dragon, the qilin is not a qilin, but a sword.
That is another story.
Yet the musician spoke with familiarity and calmness. Leisurely, as if acquainted with Xi Mengquan.
Yet how could that be possible, this musician was impoverished, bought Chen Kuang for a bushel of rice to sell him to the Imperial Palace.
Bought with a bushel of rice, sold for three taels of silver.
It's practically a profitless transaction.
Such an unscrupulous person, how could he know the Music Saint who shattered half the mountains with a single tune "Tianwen", soaring in the clouds?
Chen Kuang once dismissed the tales recorded in the score as mere stories.
Until the day he became a court musician.
Emperor Liang, in a spontaneous display of enthusiasm, took out Dragon's Gums as a wager, letting the Taichang Temple musicians compete.
Only then did Chen Kuang learn that Dragon's Gums had been silent for a thousand years, no one able to play a complete melody.
Whoever could play a section would be rewarded with a pure gold wine cup.
The musicians competed fiercely to try playing, but none could play beyond the second note.
When it was Chen Kuang's turn, he instinctively recalled that folk tale.
As a child, he had never seen a qilin nor a sword.
Both were merely vague notions to him, confused into one image in his mind.
A qilin... what if it could serve as a sword?
"Zheng—"
He played the first note, murderous intent soared into the sky, followed by an unparalleled dragon's roar.
But the skilled attendants beside Emperor Liang instantly sensed danger, drawing their swords, the cacophony of metal disrupting the start of the melody's second section.
So that was indeed a sword.
Chen Kuang thought so, even though Emperor Liang pleaded repeatedly, he could no longer continue the melody.
This was his only time receiving praise from Emperor Liang.
Yet not long after that day, the heavily spotlighted Chen Kuang was framed, nearly flogged to death by Luo Lezheng.
With his hand injured, he couldn't play, and before long, Emperor Liang forgot him.
The pure gold cup once promised was never in his hands, no one knew who intercepted it.
...
Huo Hengxuan watched him seriously adjusting that qilin, soon lost interest, leaned against the railing munching on a bun, gaze fixed on the sky outside the window.
As night fell, those eerie starlights reappeared.
This time, they were no longer stable, instead flickering.
Chen Kuang finished his adjustments, looked down at the qilin.
Most of its body was translucent blood jade, yet the slightly raised and skewed qilin head was of a lustrous snow-white color, making the entire qilin narrower than usual.
Indeed, it looked much like a broken fang with gums attached.