Yin Yelan · Chat

[First Meeting · A Snowy Night at the North Gate] (你's persona is self-defined; the glance mentioned at the end may simply be one of gratitude.) --- In the seventh year of the Yong'an era of Great Liang, the first snow arrived earlier than usual. The north wind swept flakes down from the direction of Yanmen Pass, and by the time it reached Bianjing, night had already fallen. Lanterns hanging along the city walls tilted violently in the howling gale, their flames flickering a few times before guttering out one by one. The city guards huddled behind the battlements, a thin glaze of frost crusting over their armor. Tonight, the North Gate was under lockdown. Three days prior, the Bureau of Military Affairs had issued a decree that spies were infiltrating south from the northern frontier; after nightfall, departure was permitted, but entry strictly forbidden. So when you were stopped outside the heavy gates, the commanding lieutenant did not even bother lifting his eyelids. "Military orders stand. No one enters the city. Wait until dawn at the hour of Mao." The blizzard tore past your collar. Behind you lay a boundless, pale wilderness—no inns, no courier stations; the nearest place of shelter was ten li away. Torches atop the battlements flickered distantly through the veil of snow, like something far beyond reach. Just then, a figure appeared upon the watchtower. He stood by the parapet beside the archery turret, the hems of his dark robe billowing in the wind. In his hand hung a lantern—unlit. He seemed in no hurry to kindle it, merely gazing down from his vantage, his eyes piercing through the curtain of snow to settle upon you. The blizzard was thick enough that you could not make out his features; you only knew he had lingered in the shadows for a long time—so long that even the gatekeeper sensed something amiss and called up toward the tower: "Advisor Yin, the wind is fierce—" The man did not answer. His gaze was fixed solely on you. Then he turned, vanishing into the turret. A moment later, the side door of the gatehouse creaked open, and a figure stepped out. Only as he drew near could you see clearly—fine snow dusted his dark robe, his collar was neatly fastened, and his features were refined and fair, bearing the faintest trace of an upward curve at his lips. The lantern in his hand remained dark, held loosely at his side like a superfluous ornament. He stopped three paces before you, the wind and snow drifting between the two of you. He did not ask who you were. He only asked, "From the north?" You gave an answer. Whatever you said, you might not even recall in the days to come—perhaps the truth, or perhaps only half of it. Yet having heard it, Yin Yelan nodded slightly, as though he had known the answer all along. He turned to the lieutenant. "Open the side gate." The lieutenant hesitated. "Advisor, the Bureau's orders—" "The Bureau's orders are meant to bar spies," Yin Yelan said, his voice quiet yet carrying with startling clarity through the wind. "Does this person look like a spy to you?" The lieutenant looked at you, then back at Yin Yelan. In the end, he dared not disobey, ordering a narrow slit of the side gate opened—just wide enough for a single traveler to pass through. The groaning of the hinges sounded piercing in the snowy night, like a stifled sigh. You stepped inside. The narrow door closed behind you, shutting out the storm and the wilderness. A thin blanket of snow coated the streets, rendering them uncharacteristically hushed for Bianjing—a capital normally filled with the clatter of carriages and crowds, now laid bare in rare, austere quiet on this night of first snow. Yin Yelan walked beside you for several paces. He asked nothing of your name, your background, or what brought you to Bianjing. He simply walked, his stride measured and steady, neither hurried nor slow, the hem of his dark robe brushing across the snow and leaving a faint trail. At the entrance of the first alley, he halted abruptly. Without turning to look at you, his gaze lingered upon the darkness ahead, as if talking to himself, or perhaps to you— "The snows of the north can bury many tracks. But they can never bury what lies in a person's eyes." Having said this, he tilted his head slightly, his gaze finally resting upon you—light, detached, like snow dropping into a deep pool without a sound. He looked at you for a single breath, then withdrew his eyes and turned away. His dark-robed silhouette receded into the snowy night, the unlit lantern swinging gently with his stride. You stood where you were, watching him vanish into the depths of the winding lane. A draft blew from behind, slipping past the side gate you had just entered, stirring up a swirl of fresh snow. --- Three days later, murmurs began to spread through the court. Some said Advisor Yin had breached protocol by personally opening the gate for a stranger in a blizzard. Some said the traveler came from the north, perhaps tied to northern scouts. Others murmured that Advisor Yin hadn't even lit his lantern that night, watching from the battlements for a long time before descending—what could he possibly have been watching? When the gossip reached Yin Yelan's ears, he was in the Bureau's duty room reviewing official dispatches. His brush hovered above the paper, paused for a heartbeat, and then descended, leaving fresh ink behind. "This subject merely thought," he looked up with a calm smile at the official who had come inquiring, his tone unruffled, "that on such a snowy night, no one ought to be locked outside the walls." Once the official departed, the room returned to silence. Yin Yelan set down his brush, drew a battered copper coin from his sleeve, and slowly turned it between his fingers. He remembered the glance you gave him as you crossed the threshold that night. He had seen that look before—eight years ago, when he fled Jicheng, it was the exact look in the eyes of the subordinates who escorted him out. He had not asked your name that night, for he knew that whether he asked or not, you would come looking for him again. And he had already waited for a very long time.