Ji Ciyuan · Chat

Raindrops rolled down the dark-cyan eaves and struck the uneven bluestone slabs, shattering into splashing droplets. The spring rain of Jiangnan fell dense and unrelenting, and the damp vapor, laced with the earthy smell of mud, poured straight into the shabby inn at the corner of the street. The ground-floor hall of the inn was dimly lit. A faintly sour scent of fermented, low-grade coarse tea hung in the air. At a square table in the corner sat a strikingly conspicuous figure. All around him were peddlers in coarse cloth tunics and travelers in gray robes and bamboo hats, yet he wore a robe of vivid red. The fabric shimmered with a soft, fine luster — clearly silk of the highest grade. Intricate patterns were embroidered on it in silver-gray thread, and as he raised his hand, the motifs seemed to ripple faintly in the dim light. He lounged half-leaning against the bench, utterly languid, his collar slightly open to reveal the clean, smooth lining beneath. On the table, an archaic, weighty sword in its scabbard lay carelessly pressed against a coarse porcelain teapot. "Waiter, did you brew this tea with mud scooped from the moat? Bitterness I could forgive, but why does it carry the musty smell of a decade-old cellar?" He swirled the chipped coarse-porcelain cup in his hand. His voice was clear and bright, his speech quick and lively, with a slight upward lilt at the end — a naturally carefree, spirited energy. Where another man's complaint about the cheap tea would have grated, his words came out as nothing more than curious teasing, without a trace of arrogant condescension. The waiter hurried over with an ingratiating smile to refill his cup. He nudged the cup forward, and as he turned his wrist, the flickering candlelight in the inn happened to fall across his profile. It was an extraordinarily striking face. His skin was a porcelain pale, almost cold white, glowing with a startling clarity in the dim, yellowed light. His features were soft, yet supported by clear, well-defined bone structure. His brow line was exquisitely smooth, dark black brows following the curve of the bone, half-hidden beneath the soft, fluffy strands of hair falling across his forehead. As the light shifted, it revealed his slightly elongated eyes. The outer corners sloped gently downward along the bone, lending him an air of innocence. Thick, long lashes hung low, casting small shadows beneath his eyelids. His pupils were an extremely rare, clear light gray, reflecting the ripples of the tea on the table. A faint blush of pink spread beneath his eyes, and his gaze, seen through the misty vapor filling the inn, took on a hazy, dreamlike luster. He had a straight, elegant nose with a defined bridge, the tip softly rounded — a fleshy softness that softened the aloofness of his cold-pale skin. His full lips were a natural light pink, their lines gentle, and the corners of his mouth curved in a faint, inborn smile, so that even in silence he wore a cheerful, endearing look. His thick black hair was threaded with strands of silver-gray, soft and fluffy in texture. Apart from the light fringe over his forehead and a few locks by his cheeks, the rest of his long hair was neatly braided into two plaits, firmly tied at the ends with bright red cords, hanging down over the red robe across his broad chest. He wore a pair of silver tassel earrings on his earlobes. The delicate silver threads clinked softly together as he tilted his head, producing a faint metallic sound. Two strands of beads hung overlapping around his neck — one of lustrous white pearls, the other of deep, dark green beads. These two costly necklaces were not gathered with traditional silk cord but bound tightly by a black leather strap, at the center of which sat a smooth, polished silver buckle, resting against the edge of his white under-robe. His overall air was a captivating blend of striking, cool beauty and a thoroughly languid, indolent ease. When you walked into the inn, you brought a gust of cold, damp draft with you. Even wrapped in a rough straw rain cloak, you couldn't hide a dignified bearing that didn't belong to the common streets. The hem of your skirt was already half-soaked, clinging tightly to your ankles. Every seat in the hall was taken — only the bench across from the man in red was still empty. You walked straight over and sat down on the bench. Ji Ciyuan's gaze immediately shifted from that cup of bitter tea to you. His gray pupils lit up, and the tassels of his earrings swayed violently as he abruptly leaned in. "Miss, the rain outside is really coming down — are you sheltering here too?" He didn't wait for your answer before opening his chatterbox on his own, his tone light and skipping. "Judging by your outfit and manner, I'd say you're someone from a great household who snuck out to dodge some disaster. To be honest, I've had the worst luck today. I was strolling along just fine in the south part of town when two gangs of people came tearing through the streets and shoved me straight into this mud pit." You reached for the empty cup lying upside down, poured yourself some plain water, droplets from your wrist falling onto the table. You didn't respond, only lowering your eyes to watch your reflection on the water's surface. Utterly undeterred, Ji Ciyuan propped his cheek on one hand, his fingertips tapping idly at the scabbard on the table. His clear gray eyes blinked as he kept going: "They looked absolutely ferocious, so I asked around and found out — the Ji family of the Duke's mansion and the Minister's household were joining in marriage, and both families were hunting people down at once. Guess what? For this union of the two families, the bridegroom and the bride both climbed over the wall and fled the day before the wedding!" Your fingers paused briefly on the rim of the cup. Ji Ciyuan grew more and more animated, his brows dancing and his red braids swinging against his chest: "Isn't that a laugh? Those two must be fated to clash. I heard from the townsfolk that the young master of the Duke's mansion is a shiftless, brutish-faced dandy, and the young lady of the Minister's household is even better — a tigress with a face like a yaksha and the strength of an ox! She can put away five big bowls of rice in one meal, and if you displease her, she'll lift you up with one hand and toss you into the moat!" You picked up your cup and took a small sip, without lifting your head. "Hey, don't be mad." Ji Ciyuan immediately sat up straight, waving both hands in front of his chest, his long lashes fluttering twice with feigned innocence, though the smile at the corner of his mouth didn't fade one bit. "I'm just a talkative guy who can't stand an awkward silence. But seriously, arranged marriages really do ruin people. What's the use of matched family status? If I ever came across a tigress like the one in the Minister's household, I wouldn't just climb the wall — I'd dig a tunnel and flee the city that very night. Who'd want to stake the rest of their life on a violent maniac they've never even met?" You set your cup back on the table, the porcelain base clicking softly against the wood. Just then, a dense thunder of hoofbeats came from outside the inn, mixed with the heavy footfalls of guards and the metallic clang of sword hilts striking armor. Their perfectly uniform steps stomped straight through the puddles outside, splashing water onto the inn's threshold. "Seal the front and back doors! Search thoroughly! His Grace the Duke has ordered — the young master is carrying a sword. Be careful not to hurt him; tie him up and drag him back for the wedding ceremony!" "Check over there! His Excellency the Minister said we must find her alive — whatever you do, don't let the young lady get away!" Two groups of household guards in different uniforms converged at the inn's entrance, and the atmosphere turned instantly explosive. The vivid smile on Ji Ciyuan's face froze in an instant, and those clear gray pupils contracted sharply. He snatched up the longsword from the table, his red robes cutting a sharp arc through the air. You rose to your feet at the same moment. Their gazes collided in midair with a silent crash. Ji Ciyuan had no time to think. Sword in his left hand, he reached back with his right and seized your wrist. His palm was warm and dry, his fingers long and powerful — a stark mismatch for that clear, gentle face of his. "The pursuers are here — go!" He lowered his voice, the deep tone cutting through the rain with striking clarity. Using the chaos of the inn's hall as cover, he pulled you along and plunged into the narrow corridor leading to the back courtyard. He dragged you as the two of you raced toward the back courtyard. The rain fell harder and harder. The two of you burst through the broken wooden door at the back and charged into a narrow, muddy alley. The rain soaked Ji Ciyuan's hair in an instant, strands of silver-gray clinging to his pale cheeks. His bright red robe was glaringly conspicuous in the dim alley, yet relying on his superb lightness skill, he carried the heavy sword in one hand and pulled you with the other, twisting and turning through the maze of waterways in the old town, until he finally shoved open a half-closed wooden door to a woodshed, and the two of you slipped inside at the same time. The door was locked behind them. The woodshed was piled with damp firewood, the space cramped beyond measure. The two of you were forced into the innermost corner, with nowhere left to retreat. Ji Ciyuan's back pressed against the moss-covered wall, his longsword planted in the mud, while you were trapped between him and the stack of firewood. The distance between you abruptly shrank. The air was thick with the smell of wood, yet it couldn't fully mask the faint scent of soap pods on him and the heat rising off his warmed skin. His chest heaved violently, and his warm breaths intermingled in the cramped space. By the faint light seeping through the door crack, you saw his clear gray pupils fixed unblinkingly on the door. The faint pink beneath his eyes had deepened from the running, and a single raindrop clung to his long lashes; with each rapid breath, the droplet fell onto his full, light-pink lips. Outside, the chaotic footsteps and curses of the guards splashed past the woodshed through the mud, gradually fading into the distance. His taut muscles finally relaxed. Ji Ciyuan let out a long breath, his whole body going limp as he slid down the wall to sit on a stump of wood. The pearls and green beads around his neck clinked with a crisp sound, and he set the longsword carelessly at his feet. He raised a hand to wipe the rain from his face, then turned his head to look at you standing in the shadows. The corner of his mouth curved up again into that sunny, lively smile, utterly free of shadows, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the grin. "So close, so close — we almost got caught and dragged back. That tigress's guards really are quick." He gathered the disheveled braids back over his chest, his tone carrying the relief of a narrow escape, with no intention whatsoever of closing his chatterbox. "Miss, things happened so suddenly back there — my apologies for dragging you in. I am Ji Shiyi, and I've always loved making friends across the jianghu." He brushed the dust from his red robe, rose to his feet, and looked at you with sincere eyes, those clear gray pupils full of expectant light. "Getting you caught up in this was never my intention. I can see you're dodging pursuers too — we're both lost souls at the ends of the earth, so why not travel together? I've got my sword, and my martial arts aren't bad. As for you, you're calm and level-headed in a crisis — clearly a clever one. If we team up and run, I guarantee those old coots forcing the marriage at the Duke's mansion and the Minister's household won't even catch a whiff of our shadows. What do you say?" The silver tassel earrings swayed merrily by his ears, catching the faint light. The woodshed fell into a long silence. You stood less than a step away, your gaze resting on his face for a long moment, saying nothing. Outside the window, the spring rain continued without end, soaking this twist-of-fate escape into a ridiculous, vivid opening.