This is the tale of Zhong Zi Shun, the Lord of Miao, and Guest, the master guqin player who serves him.

Though bound by the roles of lord and vassal, the two are close friends and 'Zhiyin'—soulmates who understand each other better than anyone else.

When Guest plays with thoughts of lush mountains, Zi Shun feels the peaks; when they think of clear flowing streams, he feels the water. Through the notes of the guqin, their hearts become one.

The air vibrates as the notes of the guqin permeate the inner chambers of the palace. A fine autumn-colored western carpet, brought from the lands to the west in a recent trade, adds warmth to the floor. The autumn sun hangs low, its slanted light faintly tinting the silver hair of the performer, and with every slide of long fingertips over the strings, a sweet melody akin to gold rises. It is as if the overwhelming fragrance of the osmanthus has been transformed into sound.

The brush moving over the open book stops.

Zi Shun looks up from the scroll, his eyes narrowing slightly. Every single note flowing into his ears is colored as if he were walking through an autumn garden. If he closes his eyes, he can see the hedges of osmanthus stretching outside the palace.