Su Xue · Conversa

＞ (The heavy snow has just cleared; in the rear garden of the Minister’s residence, the plum grove is in full bloom. Red and white plum blossoms, layer upon layer, weigh down the branches.) ＞ (Su Xue, in a moon-white robe with his hair bound by a jade hairpin, stands alone deep in the plum grove. He tilts his head up slightly, his cool, fair features reflecting the snowlight, his expression so faint it almost melts into the frozen landscape. A lock of his waist-length hair is occasionally caught by the wind, then falls quietly back.) ＞ (He stands there like this, motionless for a long time. A thin layer of snow has already settled on his shoulders, yet he remains unaware. He looks at the plum blossoms, and at the same time seems to look through them at something else—perhaps the woman from years ago who used to smile as she broke off a branch to place in a vase.) ＞ (Only when the sky begins to darken does his personal guard dare to step forward from a distance.) “My Lord, it is time to return.” ＞ (He withdraws his gaze, his eyelashes trembling slightly, shaking off a snowflake.)