Moonlit Reunion

Before nightfall, everyone had left, and the Mei residence returned to its usual tranquility. The fruit peels and debris in the courtyard had been cleared away by the servants, replaced once more with small tables, long couches, and fresh fruits and flowers.

On a small table, a brazier emitted wisps of green smoke, releasing a faint fragrance. Night candles illuminated the flowers, and fireflies flickered like tiny stars.

Wu Zhen reclined on the couch, lazily waving a small round fan. Whenever a glowing insect flitted by, she playfully shooed it away with the fan. Mei Zhuyu sat behind her, gently drying her damp hair with a cloth towel.

It was customary for women to wash their hair with orchid-infused water on the Qixi Festival. However, Wu Zhen had rarely followed this tradition in the past. After frolicking with the other ladies, she would usually grow restless and wander off. But this year, since Mei Zhuyu had already prepared the orchid water, she gladly indulged, allowing her husband to assist with the ritual.

The orchid water had been boiled with peach branches, giving it a peculiar scent that Wu Zhen disliked. She rinsed her hair several times before finally being satisfied. Once the moon rose, she would follow the custom of worshipping it, thus completing the Qixi celebrations.

While waiting for the moon to appear, Wu Zhen and Mei Zhuyu chatted on the couch. Mentioning the child from earlier that day, Wu Zhen asked, "How did you scare him?"

Mei Zhuyu replied, "Ghost-summoning technique and a silencing spell."

Truly ruthless. Wu Zhen was curious. "Did you discipline your junior disciples the same way back then?"

Mei Zhuyu shook his head. "No. In the temple, ghost-summoning doesn’t work, and ordinary Ghost Monsters don’t frighten them. So, if they misbehaved, I just beat them."

The casual phrase "just beat them" revealed Mei Zhuyu’s merciless nature. Wu Zhen suddenly recalled her own childhood and felt a pang of guilt. Coughing lightly, she changed the subject.

Earlier, when the ladies were gathered, someone had asked Wu Zhen how she and Mei Zhuyu had met and grown so close. Wu Zhen couldn’t answer. Upon reflection, she wasn’t entirely sure how things had progressed to this point. Looking back, it seemed to have happened naturally, without much thought.

Still, Wu Zhen was genuinely curious—why did her husband like her so much? She wasn’t foolish; she could clearly see Mei Zhuyu’s affection for her. Moreover, recalling her father’s words, their marriage had been proposed by Mei Zhuyu first, which was puzzling.

Wu Zhen guessed that her husband might have seen her before but had never mentioned it. Today, her curiosity resurfaced. She turned to Mei Zhuyu, tugging at his sash, and asked, "Husband, I heard you were the one who proposed our marriage. Did you know me before that?"

Mei Zhuyu seemed caught off guard by the question, shifting uncomfortably before murmuring, "Yes."

Yes? And then? That was it? Wu Zhen leaned against his shoulder, her interest piqued. She pressed eagerly, "What was it? Tell me."

But Mei Zhuyu remained silent. Left with no choice, Wu Zhen tried a different approach. "You came to Chang’an a little over a year ago, right? On which day did you arrive?"

This time, Mei Zhuyu answered. "The Flower Festival."

Wu Zhen paused, then suddenly clapped her hands together and laughed. "I know!" She tilted her head to look at him, teasing, "Did you see me as soon as you arrived in Chang’an? Did you fall for me at first sight?" She remembered that last year’s Flower Festival had been quite a spectacle—one where she had undoubtedly stolen the show.Mei Zhuyu did not answer. On the day he entered Chang’an, it happened to be the Flower Festival, and he did encounter Wu Zhen. But that wasn’t actually the first time he had seen her—he had met her before arriving in the city.

After descending the mountain, Mei Zhuyu had encountered many malevolent spirits on his journey to Chang’an, slaying countless along the way. When he was just a day’s travel from the capital, he was attacked by another demon. Unable to defeat him, the creature fled into the mountains. Mei Zhuyu, ever thorough in eradicating evil, immediately pursued it into the hills, determined to eliminate the threat completely.

As he entered the hunting grounds frequented by locals, he spotted Wu Zhen by a clear mountain stream.

At first glance, Mei Zhuyu thought he was seeing a mountain spirit. By the stream, amidst fragrant orchids, a woman bathed—her skin like snow, her dark hair cascading down, her features delicate and ethereal, unlike any mortal. At that moment, Mei Zhuyu was covered in dust, his robes splattered with mud, his sword still stained with blood, his expression cold and stern as he hunted the wounded demon. The sudden sight of such vivid allure stunned him. Realizing she was merely an ordinary woman, he immediately turned away without hesitation, distancing himself from the stream.

To prevent the demon from detecting human presence and attacking, he lingered nearby. Only after watching the woman dress, mount her horse, and leave with her game did he resume his hunt. After slaying the demon, he rested for two days at a temple outside the city to recover from his injuries before finally entering Chang’an.

As a child in Changxi Temple, Mei Zhuyu’s parents visited him yearly. Though they often spoke of Chang’an’s splendor, he had no memory of it. Perhaps in his youth, he had once yearned for that legendary city—where music never ceased, where Eternal Lamps illuminated endless streets—but after growing accustomed to the mountain’s solitude, such childhood dreams had dissipated like mist.

The towns below West Ridge were lively during festivals, and in his youth, Mei Zhuyu had visited them with his fellow disciples. Yet the clamor held no allure for him; it was merely mundane.

But on the day he arrived in Chang’an, it was the Flower Festival. The streets teemed with shoulder-to-shoulder crowds. Brightly dressed revelers filled the avenues—some adorned with blossoms in their hair, others carrying lanterns, while the trees lining the streets were draped with floral deity lamps. Vendors hawked their wares, carriages rolled leisurely by, noblewomen in veils mingled with vividly dressed foreigners—everywhere, a sea of bustling humanity.

At the heart of the street, a grand procession honored the Flower Deities. Towering effigies, two men high and draped in blossoms and red silk, numbered over a dozen, each uniquely crafted. The accompanying Entertainers, adorned in flamboyant attire, danced barefoot with golden bells, their waists girded with long drums, twirling to the rhythm.

Amid the music, a red horse galloped forth. Its rider, clad in crimson, wore a silk scarf fluttering in the wind, a begonia dangling from her temple like a trailing cloud. Charging toward the procession without slowing, she drew gasps from the onlookers before flashing a grin. Gripping the reins, she urged her steed into a soaring leap—clearing the crowd in a single bound.

Laughing from horseback, she waved at the Flower Deities. “Apologies for the fright—I’m in a hurry!” Her voice lingered even as she vanished into the distance.That dazzling red, carrying a crisp fragrance, brushed past Mei Zhuyu standing by the street. In that fleeting moment, the begonia flower in the woman's hair finally couldn't withstand the speed and flew off, carried by the wind to land right before Mei Zhuyu, who instinctively caught it in his hand.

The delicate begonia rested in his palm, while the woman's figure grew increasingly distant against the backdrop of blooming flowers.

Standing still, Mei Zhuyu suddenly recognized her—she was the woman he had encountered by the mountain stream the other day. For some reason, he didn’t discard the begonia he had accidentally caught, holding onto it tightly. And when he reached Twin Swans Bridge, he unexpectedly saw her again.

That year, spring arrived unusually early—a warm one. The peach, apricot, and pear blossoms planted along the riverbank were already in full bloom, like pink clouds and white mist draping overhead. As Mei Zhuyu stepped onto Twin Swans Bridge, he spotted the woman standing on a painted boat, surrounded by a group of young men and women.

She held a longbow, its arrowhead wrapped in a round bundle of red silk, aimed at small drums placed beneath the trees along the shore. With a single shot— thud —the drum burst open, scattering countless petals and even copper coins. Each time a drum shattered, cheers erupted from both the boat and the shore.

There was more than one painted boat on the river, and she wasn’t the only one holding a bow. Yet she alone was the center of attention—her smile confident and unrestrained, her arrows flying swiftly, thud after thud , never missing, leaving the others far behind, utterly outmatched.

Countless eyes from the shore, boats, and bridge burned with admiration as they watched her. But under such intense gazes, she paid no mind to anyone, focused solely on those small drums, brimming with vigor and an almost unbearable pride.

Suddenly, standing on the bridge, Mei Zhuyu’s first impression of "Chang’an" crystallized in his mind.

Seeing her, he understood Chang’an. It truly was lively and beautiful—everything that had once failed to move him now seemed to come alive, carried into his heart by that day’s warm breeze.

Later, when he settled in Chang’an, he learned her name—Wu Zhen. The second daughter of Duke Yu’s household, her only sister the current empress. Noble in status, untamed in spirit. Later, when he joined the Ministry of Justice, he often heard people mention her, occasionally catching distant glimpses of her. Each time, she rode past in a hurry, as if she were the wind itself, never pausing.

"My lord, what are you thinking about?" Wu Zhen scratched Mei Zhuyu’s chin, snapping him out of his reverie. Those bright eyes, which had once reflected no one, now clearly held his image.

Mei Zhuyu suddenly grabbed her hand and blurted out, "When I proposed, I thought you wouldn’t agree." But that might have been the first time in his life he had wanted to insist on something—whether he could obtain it or not, driven by an obsession in his heart, he had still taken the initiative to ask.

He had thought: if he failed, it was fate, and he should never think of it again. But he never expected she would actually say yes—just like that begonia that had, by some twist of fate, fallen into his hand, she had come to his side.

Wu Zhen leaned against his shoulder and laughed. "Maybe it was just perfect timing—and I liked you too.""The first time I saw you—I mean when I visited you as a cat—you cleaned my ink-stained paws and let me wipe them on your sleeve. I thought then, this gentleman is quite interesting."

"Later, when I sneaked into your home searching for the Undying Bone, you caught me, gripping my wrist and dragging me out from under the bed. At that moment, I thought, what a sharp-eyed gentleman." Wu Zhen chuckled softly. "It was the first time I'd ever been so disheveled."

Mei Zhuyu: "…" She hadn’t seemed disheveled at all—rather, she had remained perfectly composed the entire time.

Wu Zhen looped her arms around his neck and burst into laughter. "But in the end, you were even more flustered than I was. The master of the house was more nervous than the 'little thief,' nearly tripping over yourself." Back then, she had thought—ah, could it be this gentleman has feelings for me?

As she reminisced, Wu Zhen laughed all the way, growing more and more amused until she collapsed into Mei Zhuyu’s arms. He lifted her up, gazing at the moon that had risen unnoticed overhead.

"Still, I don’t understand why you like me so much, my lord."

Mei Zhuyu looked down at Wu Zhen in his embrace for a long moment before suddenly covering her eyes with his hand. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and recited in a low, husky voice:

"In the mountains' shadow, a spirit appears,

Clad in fig leaves, girded with vines.

With eyes so bright and smiles so sweet,

You admire me, my grace complete…"

When he finished, Wu Zhen pulled his hand away and asked, "The 'Mountain Spirit' from the Nine Songs —why recite this, my lord?"

But no matter how she pressed, Mei Zhuyu refused to say more. Only the faintest flush crept below his ears, and his usually clear gaze flickered away.

Beneath the full moon, whispers gradually faded. The night deepened in silence, save for the glow of red candles burning bright.