A gentle spring breeze whispered through swaying willows. The clear lake shimmered under the light, dotted with countless drifting boats. From within them floated women’s coquettish giggles and men’s teasing laughter—a lively, bustling scene.
At the center of it all drifted a colossal pleasure boat strung with colorful lanterns. Inside stood an ornate three-story pavilion, its eaves lavishly adorned, radiant and eye-catching. Even from afar, delicate melodies flowed gently from within.
Surrounding the grand vessel like stars orbiting the moon, smaller boats clustered tightly. Only guests holding invitations could board; most remained anchored below, watching with bright, wistful eyes.
Tonight was Huanan’s once-in-five-years Flower Queen Competition.
On the pavilion’s rooftop, an open-air stage rose high. Below, a sea of spectators packed the area—layers deep inside and out. Even government guards moved through the crowd to keep order.
“Young Master Li has arrived—”
Heads turned. Servants in retainer attire escorted an elegant young man in a flowing robe toward the pavilion. The crowd surged with excitement. No surprise—he was Huanan’s undisputed top young master.
Young Master Li offered a humble smile, cupping his hands politely to those nearby. Just then, a heavily made-up middle-aged woman descended the stairs. Spotting him, she flashed a flattering grin and hurried forward.
“Oh my~ If it isn’t Young Master Li~ Come again today for our little Xue’er, have you~?”
His smile warmed. He drew a stack of silver notes from his sleeve and pressed them toward her.
“Sister Zhao, my feelings for Zhaoxue are known throughout Huanan. Please, grant me a moment with her before the performance.”
Sister Zhao’s expression stiffened. Smoothly, she pushed the notes back.
“Oh dear, Young Master~ Today’s performance is vital for Xue’er. Accepting your kindness wouldn’t be proper~ But come, I’ll seat you at the very front. How’s that~?”
Seeing his usual leverage fail, Young Master Li sighed softly and followed her—though his gaze lingered on the tightly shut boudoir door.
Inside, Hua Zhaoxue sat before a bronze mirror. Crimson lips, lotus-petal cheeks, skin flushed with delicate pink. Almond eyes, willow brows. Beneath her crimson gown, her figure curved with quiet grace—a silhouette both elegant and haunting. Her jade-like fingers brushed a stray strand behind her ear. Every motion carried languid charm, like a sorrowful maiden… utterly mesmerizing.
She gazed dreamily at her reflection, lost in quiet melancholy…
*Knock, knock—*
The door eased open. A flamboyantly dressed woman stepped in, eyes flicking over Hua Zhaoxue. A flash of sharp jealousy crossed her face—gone in an instant. She spoke, voice laced with mock sweetness:
“Oh my~ If it isn’t Hua Zhaoxue, Flower Pavilion’s star attraction, Miss Zhaoxue herself~ What’s wrong? Half the young masters below came for you. Yet here you sit, utterly dazed?”
Hua Zhaoxue didn’t stir. Still gazing into the mirror, her dreamy stillness stirred an ache to hold and comfort her.
Unfazed, the woman pressed on:
“I heard even Young Master Li came specially for you~ Does *he* catch Miss Zhaoxue’s eye?”
At “Young Master Li,” Hua Zhaoxue’s gaze drifted from the glass. A soft sigh escaped her.
“Sister misunderstands. I share no connection with him. Please, do not assume otherwise.”
Her voice, clear as a mountain stream, only tightened the woman’s brow.
“Fine, fine. If Huanan’s finest isn’t worthy… Well, you *are* the only woman in Huanan blessed with Prayer Aura. Yet you chose this life? Do you truly crave this spotlight?”
A faint shadow of weariness crossed Hua Zhaoxue’s face. “If that is your belief, so be it. I must prepare. If you have no further business… please take your leave.”
The woman’s eyes burned with envy—but remembering who she faced, she huffed sharply and swept out.
Alone again, Hua Zhaoxue sighed at the closed door, then turned back to the mirror.
“Even this envied Prayer Aura… what use is it? Still adrift in the mortal world…”
Suddenly, cheers erupted below. An ancient, elegant guqin melody began to rise.
Hua Zhaoxue smoothed her sleeves, rose, and stepped out.
As the music swelled, the crowd fell silent. Six graceful maidens emerged from behind silk curtains, hips swaying, sleeves swirling. Each held a bouquet of fresh blooms.
The melody deepened—tender, yearning. They raised their hands. The flowers drifted together, lifting slowly as if pulled by invisible threads.
Gasps rippled through the audience. Young Master Li’s eyes fixed on the rising floral sphere.
Higher it rose—until, near the ceiling, a crimson silhouette flickered into view. Before anyone could focus, the blossom descended, and atop it stood a crimson-clad dancer.
All eyes locked on her.
With light steps, she glided across the stage. Her gaze swept the captivated crowd. A flick of her wrist—petals spiraled into the air like snow. Her dance held no overt coquetry, yet every motion breathed allure; no forced softness, yet flawless beauty in every curve.
Young Master Li murmured, entranced:
“Hua Zhaoxue… No wonder. Huanan’s sole Prayer Aura dancer… The Flower Queen title is yours alone.”
She stepped forward, hands resting lightly at her waist, and gave a shallow bow. A calm smile graced her lips.
“Young Master flatters me. And to all honored guests—Zhaoxue feels unwell tonight. With your permission, I shall retire.”
Young Master Li’s hand twitched upward—then fell limp.
“Zhaoxue! The competition isn’t over! Where are you going?” Sister Zhao, bustling near the rear entrance, called out urgently.
The crimson figure paused. Slowly turning, voice soft yet weary:
“Sister Zhao… I am tired. May I return to my room early?”
Sister Zhao glanced at the roaring crowd, opened her mouth—then saw the quiet exhaustion in Zhaoxue’s eyes. She sighed with a wry smile.
“I know your spirit well. Most came for you tonight… especially *him*… Ah, never mind. Rest well. I’ll handle the rest.”
Gratitude flickered in Hua Zhaoxue’s eyes. She bowed deeply, whispered thanks, and vanished through the back door.
Huanan’s river gleamed under willow branches. Hua Zhaoxue didn’t return to her room. Instead, she leaned against a riverside willow, gazing at the shimmering water, eyes distant.
*Whizz—!*
A sharp cry split the sky. Fireworks bloomed overhead—celebrating the Flower Queen Competition. She watched the fleeting blossoms flare and fade into the endless night, lonely and brief.
Amid the glitter, several strands of brilliant silver light streaked down.
“Hmm?”
Hua Zhaoxue’s eyes narrowed. Only she—the sole bearer of Prayer Aura in Huanan—sensed their strangeness. Others saw mere fireworks.
The silver light plummeted, hidden within the spectacle. Curious, she focused her Prayer Aura, then glided silently toward its landing spot.
The glow fell within a withered grove, far from the lake’s revelry. Wind rustled brittle branches. Alone, Hua Zhaoxue shivered, cold sweat tracing her temples. Twice she nearly turned back—but curiosity held her. Clenching her teeth, she pressed deeper.
Closer she moved—the more miraculous the sight. Withered trees burst into lush green, leaves dancing vibrantly in the breeze. Life surged where none had been.
Suddenly, deep in the grove, the silver light flared. A wave of profound peace washed through the woods. Every dead branch bloomed anew, as if time itself reversed.
Heart pounding, Hua Zhaoxue hurried forward. The silver strands converged into a human-sized orb of light… then gently faded.
As the warmth receded, she gathered her courage and looked.
And in that glance—time stilled.
Her breath caught.
How to describe him?
Midnight-black hair flowed like liquid shadow under moonlight, edged with ethereal grace. Long, curled lashes trembled over closed eyes. A nose sculpted with precision. Lips thin yet tender. Skin smoother than newborn silk, glowing with impossible purity.
Leaning against a tree, he wore snow-white robes. His perfectly proportioned frame curled slightly—as if seeking shelter.
Hua Zhaoxue’s daze lifted. She stared at his transcendent face. Seeing no one around… a quiet resolve settled in her heart.
