The central avenue of the prefecture capital was a roaring sea of commerce, choked with the clamor of shouting vendors and the haggling of citizens. Amidst the chaos, a delicate embroidered slipper stepped onto the cobblestones.
Mu Ying moved through the bustling market, her long, silken hair cascading loosely over the shoulders of her pale, elegant hanfu. Her bright eyes scanned the crowded stalls, taking in the vibrant tapestry of the city.
"Young mistress! Come look upon the finest Suzhou silks!"
"Fresh dumplings! Hot, savory, and cheap, young mistress!"
"Look here, young mistress! We possess rare jade and exquisite jewelry fit for a palace!"
The vendors called out to her like a chorus as she glided past, but she offered them only fleeting glances, her steps never faltering. However, the sudden calling of her own name gave her pause.
"Mu Ying! Mu Ying!"
Turning back, she spotted a young woman sprinting through the crowd toward her. It was her personal maid, Aihan, whose dark, practical robes were disheveled by the wind. Her hair was bound tightly behind her head in a neat bun, and she was panting heavily, hands pressed against her knees as she gasped for air.
"Ai Han," Mu Ying chided softly.
"Young lady..." Aihan wheezed.
"Aya! How many times must I tell you not to address me by my title when we slip outside the estate walls?" Mu Ying hissed playfully, glancing around.
"How could I not, young... I mean, Mu Ying!" Aihan complained, catching her breath. "The moment my eyes wandered, you vanished into the throng! You walk too fast for me to keep pace. I had no choice but to call out your true name."
Mu Ying grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "That is because you have been cooped up within those high manor walls for far too long. Come, quicken your pace!"
"When it comes to your secret escapades, my thoughts differ greatly from yours," Aihan sighed, straightening her robes.
"Ah, Aihan, you speak as though I am a constant harbinger of trouble," Mu Ying said, adopting an air of wounded innocence. "My intentions are ever pure, and I rarely cause true disaster."
She widened her eyes in an attempt to look thoroughly blameless, but Aihan merely fixed her with a flat, dubious stare, entirely unfooled by her mistress's clumsy acting.
Then, a sudden shadow of melancholy fell over Aihan's face as a sobering thought struck her. "When... when do you depart?" she asked, her voice dropping to a low murmur.
Mu Ying's playful demeanor softened, and she straightened her posture. "Likely after the Great Night Market at the end of this month," she mused quietly. "Perhaps slightly later."
"And when will you return to us?"
"I know not what storms await me over there," Mu Ying admitted, gazing toward the distant horizon. "But I shall return the moment the winds die down and all is safe."
Hearing this, Aihan's expression darkened with sorrow. Seeking to pierce the gloom, Mu Ying nudged her playfully. "Do not look so miserable! I shall return so swiftly that you won't even have the leisure to miss me."
"Hmph! Who would waste their tears missing you?" Aihan retorted with fierce affection. Turning on her heel, she marched away indignantly, her small feet stomping rapidly down the street.
Watching her maid throw a childish tantrum, Mu Ying burst into a clear, ringing laugh. "Aihan, wait for me!" she called out cheerfully, quickening her pace to catch up.
As Mu Ying hurried through the crowd, she brushed past a tall gentleman walking with a measured, aristocratic gait. He held a wide oil-paper umbrella low against the bright sun, obscuring the upper half of his face.
As they crossed paths, their shoulders lightly grazed. A subtle, elegant draft of wind carried their fragrances across one another.
In that fleeting second, an involuntary thought bloomed in Mu Ying's mind: What a remarkably pleasant fragrance.
Neither of them turned back. They continued on their separate paths, disappearing into opposite ends of the crowded thoroughfare.
Mu Ying soon caught up to her gloomy maid and affectionately linked her arm through Ai Han's. "Come now, Aihan, do not be angry. Look at the bright side! I heard the Grand Music Pavilion has constructed a new upper tier. Let us go catch a glimpse. I still wish to witness the legendary dancers and their famed choreography."
A spark of eager excitement flashed in Mu Ying's eyes.
Aihan feigned deep disgust, trying in vain to pull her arm from her mistress's iron grip, utterly scandalized by such unladylike curiosities. "Heavens, you have been utterly corrupted by the gossip of those rogue elements! What manner of nonsense are they whispering in your ear, young lady?"
"I highly suspect my father and the elders know absolutely nothing of this," Mu Ying grinned cheekily, refusing to loosen her hold. "Come! Let us inspect that stall over there!" She dragged the complaining maid forward.
"Why did you choose to join them in the first place?" Aihan muttered under her breath, a question weighed down by secrets that belonged to a different world.
But her low voice was entirely swallowed by the vibrant, cheerful laughter of Mu Ying, which echoed beautifully through the ancient, sunlit streets.
—---__—-----------____—---_—-------_—---_
Beyond the roar of the marketplace, tucked away in a quiet, noble quarter of the city, stood the grand estate of the Xiu Mansion.
Mo Lin arrived at the massive gates, shielded from the afternoon heat by his oil-paper umbrella. He wore a light, breathable hanfu suited for travel. His hair was bound half-up in a scholar's topknot, while the remaining silken strands fell loosely about his neck, lending him a relaxed, carefree air that contrasted with his disciplined, steady stride.
A heavy travel satchel was slung firmly across his shoulder. Lifting his gaze, he looked upon the grand, lacquered plaque engraved with his family's prestigious name. A profound warmth welled up in his chest—he was finally home.
He ascended the stone steps. Folding his umbrella and tucking it beneath his arm, he raised a hand and knocked firmly against the heavy timber doors.
After a brief silence and two more knocks, the heavy bolts slid back.
"Who approaches?" a deep voice called out as footsteps neared.
The door creaked open a fraction, and an old servant poked his head out, a polite, practiced smile upon his weathered face. But as his eyes fell upon the visitor, the smile froze, and his eyes widened in sheer disbelief.
"Young... Young Master?!" the servant gasped.
"Old Uncle," Mo Lin said, a gentle smile breaking across his face. "Have you been keeping well in my absence?"
"Young Master!!" The old house steward, who had served the clan since before Mo Lin's birth, beamed with unbridled joy upon hearing the familiar, respectful address.
He threw the doors wide, stepping out to get a full view of the boy who had left for the regional academy years ago. The boy was gone; in his place stood a tall, handsome, and remarkably refined young man.
"You have grown into a magnificent young master," the old servant exclaimed, his voice thick with emotion. "Come in, come in! It is a sin to leave the heir standing on the threshold. Let me take your burdens." He eagerly stepped to Mo Lin's side, reaching for the heavy satchel.
"Old Uncle, please, do not trouble yourself," Mo Lin protested gently, stepping back. "I am young and strong; I can carry it."
But the old steward possessed the stubborn loyalty of a bygone era. "Do not utter such nonsense, Young Master! Allow this old servant to do his duty. You have journeyed far from the province; your limbs must be weary and aching from the road."
Without permitting further refusal, the old man deftly snatched the satchel from Mo Lin's hands and marched into the estate. Mo Lin let out a helpless, affectionate sigh and followed him across the threshold.
They walked leisurely along the winding stone paths that flanked the manicured gardens, Mo Lin speaking softly of his final days at the academy.
Suddenly, the tranquil silence of the estate was broken by the rapid, frantic patter of slippers running along the raised wooden veranda nearby.
Just as Mo Lin and the steward were about to ascend the steps leading toward the inner courtyard pavilion, a melodious voice rang out through the air, bordering on a joyful shout.
Turning their heads toward the sound, they saw a young woman clad in vibrant, flowing silk robes rushing toward them, a radiant, brilliant smile illuminating her face.