Fang Ziheng held up three fingers and was about to continue counting when Shen Jinghong set his wine flask down on the table with a thud and waved his hand impatiently.
“Not interested.”
The three words came out cleanly and decisively, as if he wasn’t willing to hear another word.
Fang Ziheng blinked in surprise and looked him up and down with his peach-blossom eyes.
“How can you not be interested? I haven’t even finished.”
“I wouldn’t be interested even if you did finish.”
Shen Jinghong leaned back against a pillar, one leg bent and resting on the railing, his posture utterly relaxed.
“What do the capital’s great beauties have to do with me? I’m not here to look for a wife.”
“If you’re not here to look for a wife, then why did you come to Peach Blossom Cove?” Fang Ziheng shot back.
“To admire the flowers.”
Shen Jinghong pointed confidently at the peach blossoms blooming overhead.
“See? Flowers. I’m here to admire flowers.”
Zhao Zheng snorted.
“You? Admire flowers? Can you even tell a peach blossom from an apricot blossom?”
Shen Jinghong choked on his words for a second before kicking him in embarrassment.
“Shut up! Of course I can!”
“Then what flower is this?”
Zhao Zheng pointed at a branch above them laden with peach blossoms.
“…Peach blossom.”
Shen Jinghong answered quickly.
“What variety?”
Shen Jinghong fell silent.
Fang Ziheng and Zhou Yanzhi burst out laughing at the same time.
“Enough, enough.”
Unable to save face, Shen Jinghong shoved Fang Ziheng away, jumped down from the railing, and straightened the front of his robe, which had been ruffled by the wind.
“I’m going for a walk. I’m done listening to your nonsense.”
He started toward the pavilion exit, then turned back, grabbed the wine flask from the stone table, and hung it at his waist in one smooth motion.
“What are you wandering off for?” Fang Ziheng shouted after him.
“Afraid you’ll actually run into those famous beauties and won’t be able to stop staring?”
Without turning around, Shen Jinghong raised a middle finger.
Fang Ziheng laughed loudly and called after him again:
“Come on! I bet your head’s full of Qiu Lingxi now. What other beauty could possibly catch your eye?”
Shen Jinghong’s footsteps paused briefly.
Without turning back, he merely snorted.
Just a single sound, but it carried all the arrogant energy of I’m too mature to argue with you.
Then he strode down the pavilion steps.
The hem of his moon-white robe fluttered in the wind as he disappeared onto a path winding through the peach forest, leaving his laughing friends far behind.
The peach grove was much quieter.
Dense flowering branches intertwined overhead, scattering patches of sunlight across the stone path. Fallen petals carpeted the ground.
Shen Jinghong wandered aimlessly, wine flask in one hand while the other casually brushed aside branches in his way.
His pace was quick, carrying the natural agility of a martial artist. Within moments, he had crossed several groves.
“Qiu Lingxi?”
he muttered to himself.
Then he shook his head.
“Forget it. Not interested… How could anything be better than being free and carefree on my own?”
Following the stream upstream, he gradually left the bustling crowds behind.
Fewer and fewer visitors appeared.
The surroundings grew increasingly quiet.
Just as he was considering finding a place to sit and have a drink, he heard the sound of carriage wheels ahead.
At the entrance to Peach Blossom Cove, a carriage draped with green curtains had just come to a stop.
The curtain lifted.
A maid in a goose-yellow vest jumped down first.
With her round face and twin-bun hairstyle, she was none other than Xiaodie.
After landing, she immediately turned around and carefully held up the curtain.
“Miss, slowly.”
A hand emerged from behind the curtain.
It was almost too slender.
Long fingers.
Delicate joints.
A narrow wrist.
Skin as pale and smooth as jade.
Holding Xiaodie’s hand, the owner slowly stepped out.
Fu Yunyang emerged from the carriage.
Today she wore a soft pink dress.
Not a bright, flamboyant pink, but the delicate shade of newly blossomed peach flowers.
Silver embroidery shimmered faintly across the fabric whenever sunlight touched it.
Her waist was so slender it seemed one could encircle it with a single hand.
A matching gauze shawl draped over her shoulders, fluttering lightly in the breeze.
The entire effect made her look as though she had stepped straight out of a painting.
Standing beside her, Xiaodie looked up at the thick canopy of peach blossoms overhead and suddenly smacked her forehead.
“Oh no! Miss, I left your hat in the carriage! The sun’s strong today you mustn’t stay out in it. I’ll go get it. Please wait here for a moment!”
“Mm.”
Fu Yunyang answered softly.
Xiaodie hurried back toward the carriage, standing on tiptoe to take the hat from the coachman.
As she ran off, she called back:
“Just wait for me! Miss, don’t wander around!”
Fu Yunyang didn’t reply.
She merely nodded.
The entrance to the grove became quiet.
She stood alone beneath an ancient peach tree.
It was an extraordinarily old tree, its trunk so thick that even two people joining hands couldn’t wrap around it.
Its branches twisted and coiled with age.
Yet it bore the most magnificent blossoms of all.
She tilted her head slightly upward and looked at the flowers overhead.
Spring sunlight filtered through the branches.
The shadows of petals fell across her brows, her nose, and her lips.
From afar, one simply thought her beautiful.
Only up close could one understand how breathtaking she truly was.
Her face was delicate and serene.
Her brows resembled distant mountains brushed with ink.
Her eyes were long and graceful, their corners slightly lifted.
Her eyelashes were thick and elegant.
Her nose was finely sculpted.
Her lips naturally carried the faintest pink hue.
Her skin was luminous white not the sickly pallor of someone hidden from sunlight, but the warm, smooth whiteness of the finest jade.
Beautiful.
Yet somehow capable of stirring an inexplicable tenderness in anyone who looked at her.
Her gaze settled on the fullest blossom-laden branch overhead.
The branch drooped low, almost brushing her hair.
Layer upon layer of petals clustered together.
Looking at it, the corner of her lips curved ever so slightly, as if she had remembered something from long ago.
Then she raised her hand.
Her fingertips lightly touched the lowest blossom.
The movement was gentle.
Slow.
The moment her finger brushed the petals, they trembled slightly.
A bead of dew rolled from the flower’s center.
A breeze swept through.
Peach blossoms fluttered down from the entire tree.
Petals brushed her hair and landed softly in her open palm.
Lowering her gaze, she looked at the perfect blossom resting there.
Carefully, she tucked it into her sleeve.
Then she lifted her head and continued gazing at the branch above.
Time seemed to slow.
So slow that Shen Jinghong stood ten paces away for a very long time.
Long enough that he himself failed to realize how long it had been.
A girl in pink.
Standing alone beneath an ancient peach tree.
Looking up at the flowers.
Petals drifted endlessly around her, settling in her hair, on her shoulders, and upon her sleeves.
She didn’t move.
She looked like a figure inside a painting.
His first thought was:
Whose daughter is this? Why is she standing here alone? Doesn’t she have even a single maid with her?
Then his gaze landed on her profile.
At that moment, the wind stirred.
A few loose strands of hair were blown across her cheek.
Shen Jinghong’s throat bobbed.
He didn’t know why he had stopped.
He should leave.
A lone man encountering an unmarried young lady by herself was the sort of thing that could easily become gossip.
He tightened his grip on the wine flask.
Then he heard his own heartbeat.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Much faster than usual.
Frowning, he instinctively took half a step backward.
His boot snapped a dry branch beneath it.
Crack.
The sound rang clearly through the quiet grove.
Fu Yunyang’s shoulders stiffened slightly.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
She turned around.
Their eyes met.
The moment Shen Jinghong saw her face clearly, he nearly dropped the wine flask.
It was a face…
A face for which he couldn’t find a single suitable description.
He wasn’t well-read.
His vocabulary was limited.
His mind could only produce two words:
beautiful.
But even those words felt far too inadequate.
Too insignificant.
Too light to match even a single strand of her hair.
The instant she saw him, her eyes widened slightly.
She took a small step back.
Her pink skirt swayed gently in the breeze.
A peach blossom slipped from her sleeve and fell soundlessly onto the stone path.
Shen Jinghong opened his mouth.
He wanted to say something.
Perhaps I wasn’t trying to spy on you.
Or Don’t be afraid.
But not a single word came out.
He simply stood there stupidly, wine flask in hand.
Fu Yunyang quickly lowered her eyes.
After a long moment of silence, she gave him a perfectly proper curtsy.
The movement was slow and elegant.
Knees bent.
Head lowered.
Hands folded neatly at her waist.
Then she turned around.
Without running.
Without panic.
She simply walked away along the stone path into the depths of the peach grove.
Her pace remained calm and measured.
Even composed.
Yet Shen Jinghong noticed that her fingers were gripping the edge of her sleeve.
Rather tightly.
He stood there motionless, staring in the direction she had disappeared.
After a long time, he finally lowered his gaze.
There, on the ground, lay the peach blossom that had fallen from her sleeve.
He crouched down and picked it up.
For a long while, he simply stared at the flower resting in his palm.
Then, as though possessed, he tucked it into his own sleeve.
The moment he finished, he froze.
“…What am I doing? Have I lost my mind?”
He muttered the curse at himself under his breath and shook his head hard, as if trying to fling away some dangerous thought.
Then he lifted the wine flask and took a huge gulp.
The harsh liquor burned down his throat, making him cough twice until his eyes turned red.
“This has to be some flower spirit I’ve run into… damn it.”