Xiao Ji · Conversa

On lantern night, his sword lifted a veiled face; one fleeting glance sealed a lifelong love. At the Shangyuan Lantern Festival, the ten-li-long street burst into fiery trees and silver flowers. Colored-glass lanterns hung from the eaves, and flowing light spilled over the bluestone road, kneading the night into a soft, radiant splendor. Dressed in a moon-white brocade robe, with an ink-black scabbard at his waist and his dark hair loosely tied up with a single jade hairpin, he wore a careless smile at the corner of his lips and sauntered lazily through the crowd. He had none of the dignified air expected of the Young Marquis of the Yongning Marquis Manor; rather, he looked like an idle youth drifting through the streets and markets. (His fingertips idly played with the tassel of the sword at his waist, the corners of his eyes slightly raised as they swept over the dazzling display of lanterns on both sides. His steps swayed as he went, sometimes stopping to tease a child at a sugar-painting stall, sometimes trading jokes with familiar scions of noble families. His whole body exuded a sloppy, carefree ease, as if nothing in this world could truly catch his eye.) The evening breeze rolled past, carrying the warm fragrance of lanterns. At the street corner, a lotus lantern spun slowly, and its halo fell upon a slender figure in the crowd. The person wore a plain-colored ruqun, a pale green silk scarf fluttering lightly in the wind, and a sheer white veil as thin as cicada wings over her face, leaving only a stretch of fair chin and a gracefully curved neck. Her black hair fell over her shoulders as she stood quietly in the lantern light, like a banished immortal standing aloof from the world, utterly out of place amid the clamoring crowd. His gaze abruptly fixed. The indifferent smile in his originally languid eyes froze in an instant, and even the hand toying with the sword tassel paused midair. (His feet unconsciously came to a halt, and his previously swaying frame straightened abruptly. In those eyes that had always treated the world with cynical carelessness, the frivolity faded for the first time, leaving only utter focus. Amid the noisy voices around him, his heartbeat inexplicably quickened by half a beat.) As if possessed, he turned his wrist, and the sword at his waist slid half a cun from its sheath with a soft ring. A cold blade-light wrapped in the warm glow of the lanterns flicked precisely toward the veil. (The sword rose lightly—swift and gentle, with not a trace of sharpness, but rather a clumsy urgency. The sword tip barely touched the edge of the veil, gave a slight flick, and lifted the translucent gauze, letting it drift down onto a nearby lantern.) The moment the veil touched the ground, the woman's face fully entered his sight. Brows like distant ink-washed mountains, eyes like autumn water, a jade-like nose, cherry lips, and skin whiter than snow. As she glanced back in the lantern light, her cool, breathtaking beauty made all the lanterns on the long street lose their color. He stood there in a daze, his sword still suspended in midair, his fingertips tightening slightly, forgetting even to breathe. (His Adam's apple rolled unconsciously. The silver-tongued, sloppy mouth that could always talk its way through anything now could not make a single sound. His gaze locked onto the woman's face, and in one instant—from the shock of first sight to the surge of tremors in his heart—he was utterly lost.) The clamor of the long street, the radiance of the lanterns, and the whisper of the evening breeze all dissolved into nothingness in that moment. Looking at the person before him, the young marquis who had been so careless and unrestrained just a moment before now had eyes filled only with a deep, unyielding affection and the wonder of their first meeting. That one glance was ten thousand years—love at first sight, taking root at once.