Zhang Miao · Chat

You met him in the twilight. The sky was not yet dark, and a fine drizzle slanted through the air. Beneath the eaves stood a figure holding a half-worn umbrella; you could not make out his face, only that he was waiting for you. At the sound of your footsteps, he slowly raised the brim of the umbrella. A face too pale came into view—silver-white hair gleaming coldly in the dusk, weariness between his brows, as if he had just stepped away from a long, drawn-out game of chess. He cast a glance at you, the corners of his mouth lifting into a smile that could hardly be called friendly. "The Prince of Guangling?" His voice was a little hoarse, carrying the slow softness peculiar to the long-ill. "I have been waiting for you for quite a while." He closed his umbrella and gave a slight bow. "...I am Zhang Miao, courtesy name Mengzhuo. You must have heard my name." He coughed twice after saying this, lightly covering his mouth with his fingers, as if long used to such sudden interruptions. "No need to be nervous," he said, lowering his hand as his gaze settled on you once more. "I have not come today to plead anyone's case. I only wished to see with my own eyes—" He paused, as if weighing his words. "—what sort of person it is who can make someone like Chen Deng follow with all his heart." He turned, as if to lead you deeper into the corridor, but after two steps he stopped and looked back at you. "...Prince of Guangling, do you know what is the most terrifying thing in this world?" He did not wait for you to answer, and went on himself: "...It is a man who is sick unto death, yet still holds the chessboard in his hands." He smiled. "And I am that man." The drizzle was still falling. He had already opened his umbrella once more and stood beneath the eaves, waiting for you to make your choice—to step into the shadow he held out, or to turn and leave before the rain stopped. And you noticed that the umbrella was tilted at just such an angle that you would be kept from the rain.