As night fell, the Mei family residence regained its usual tranquility after all the guests had departed. The servants had cleared away the fruit peels and debris from the courtyard, replacing them with small tables, long benches, fresh fruit, and flowers. A censer on one of the tables emitted a faint, pleasant fragrance as its wisps of smoke rose into the air. The night candles illuminated the flowers, their light flickering like fireflies.
Wu Zhen reclined on a bench, gently waving a small round fan to playfully shoo away the glowing insects that approached. Mei Zhuyu sat behind her, using a cloth to dry her damp hair.
It was customary for women to wash their hair with orchid-infused water on the night of the Qixi Festival. In previous years, Wu Zhen had rarely observed this tradition, usually unable to resist wandering about after playing with the other ladies. However, this year, since Mei Zhuyu had already prepared the orchid water, she gladly accepted, allowing her husband to help wash her hair.
The orchid water, boiled with peach branches, had a peculiar scent that Wu Zhen disliked, so she rinsed her hair several times afterward. When the moon rose, she would perform the customary moon worship, thus completing the Qixi celebrations.
While waiting for the moon to appear, Wu Zhen and Mei Zhuyu sat on the bench, chatting idly. Recalling the young boy from earlier in the day, Wu Zhen asked, “How did you frighten him?”
Mei Zhuyu replied, “Ghost summoning and silencing spells.”
Surprised by his ruthlessness, Wu Zhen inquired curiously, “Is that how you disciplined your young disciples in the past?”
Mei Zhuyu shook his head. “No, ghost summoning doesn’t work in the temple, and ordinary ghosts can’t scare them. So, if they misbehaved, I simply beat them.”
The casual way he said “I simply beat them” revealed the severity of Mei Zhuyu’s methods. Wu Zhen, recalling her childhood, suddenly felt uneasy and quickly changed the subject with a cough.
Earlier, when the ladies were together, someone had asked Wu Zhen how she and Mei Zhuyu had met and fallen in love. Wu Zhen couldn’t answer, as she wasn’t entirely sure how their relationship had developed into its current state. Reflecting on it, she could only say it seemed to have happened naturally, without much thought on her part.
However, Wu Zhen was genuinely curious about why her husband was so fond of her. She wasn’t foolish; she could see Mei Zhuyu’s feelings for her. Remembering that her father had mentioned Mei Zhuyu was the one who first proposed their marriage, she found it perplexing.
Wu Zhen guessed that her husband might have seen her before, but she had never asked about it. Today, her curiosity resurfaced. She moved closer to him, tugging at his robe, and asked, “My lord, I heard that you were the one who first proposed our marriage. Did you know me before that?”
Mei Zhuyu, caught off guard by her sudden question, seemed a bit uncomfortable as he softly replied, “Yes.”
“Yes? Is that all?” Wu Zhen persisted, resting her chin on his shoulder, her interest piqued. “Tell me more.”
When Mei Zhuyu remained silent, Wu Zhen changed her approach. “You came to Chang’an over a year ago, right? Which day did you arrive?”
This time, Mei Zhuyu answered, “The Flower Festival.”
Wu Zhen paused, then suddenly clapped her hands in realization. “I know!” She turned to look at Mei Zhuyu teasingly. “Did you see me as soon as you arrived in Chang’an? Was it love at first sight?” Wu Zhen recalled making quite an impression during last year’s Flower Festival.
Mei Zhuyu didn’t respond. While it was true that he had encountered Wu Zhen on the day he entered Chang’an, which happened to be the Flower Festival, it wasn’t the first time he had seen her. He had seen her before arriving in the capital.
On his journey to Chang’an, Mei Zhuyu encountered and slain numerous evil spirits. Just a day’s journey from the city, he was attacked by another malevolent creature. When the spirit fled into the mountains, Mei Zhuyu, determined to eliminate the threat, pursued it into a forest known for hunting.
It was there, by a clear stream in the mountains, that he first saw Wu Zhen.
At first glance, Mei Zhuyu thought he was seeing a mountain spirit. By the stream, amidst the orchids, a bathing woman with skin like snow and long black hair cascading down her back had a face so beautiful and pure that she seemed otherworldly. At the time, Mei Zhuyu was travel-worn, his robes splattered with mud, his long sword still stained with blood as he grimly searched for the wounded evil spirit. Unexpectedly confronted with this vision of beauty, he was momentarily stunned. Realizing she was an ordinary woman, he immediately retreated without a second thought, distancing himself from the stream.
Concerned that the evil spirit might catch the scent of a human and attack, he kept watch from afar. Only after seeing the bathing woman dress and leave the area with her horse and hunting spoils did he resume his search for the evil spirit. After slaying the creature, he stayed at a Taoist temple outside the city for two days to recuperate before entering Chang’an.
As a child at the Changxi Temple, Mei Zhuyu’s parents would visit him annually, speaking of the grand city of Chang’an. Mei Zhuyu had no real impression of it, though as a child he may have yearned for the world-renowned splendor of its endless music and brightly lit streets. However, after growing accustomed to the serenity of mountain life, that childhood longing had dissipated like mist.
There were towns at the foot of the Western Hills, and Mei Zhuyu had visited them with his senior and junior disciples in his youth. During festivals, the streets would be crowded and lively, but Mei Zhuyu never found this bustle particularly appealing, viewing it as ordinary.
On the day he arrived in Chang’an, coinciding with the Flower Festival, the streets were packed with people shoulder to shoulder. The wide avenues were filled with brightly dressed revelers, some with flowers in their hair, others carrying colorful lanterns. Trees lining the streets were adorned with flower god lanterns. Vendors called out their wares, carriages moved slowly through the crowds, and nobility with veiled hats mingled with colorfully dressed foreigners – a sea of humanity as far as the eye could see.
In the center of the street, a long procession honoring the flower god stretched out. Over a dozen exquisitely crafted flower god statues, each standing two men tall and adorned with fresh flowers and red silk were carried along. The musicians accompanying the procession were elaborately dressed, bare-chested, and barefoot, with long drums tied at their waists and golden bells in their hands as they danced and twirled to the rhythm.
Amidst the sounds of pipes and flutes, a red horse galloped through. Its rider, a woman in a red dress with flowing silk scarves and crab apple blossoms in her hair, approached the procession like a crimson cloud. As she neared the line of flower god statues, she showed no sign of slowing. To the gasps and shouts of onlookers, the woman on horseback flashed a smile, gripped the reins tightly, and with a leap, gracefully jumped over the heads of the crowd, eliciting a collective intake of breath.
Laughing atop her horse, the woman waved to the flower god procession, “I’m in a hurry, sorry for the fright!” Her voice lingered as she sped away.
That dazzling flash of red, carrying a crisp fragrance, brushed past Mei Zhuyu as he stood at the roadside. In that fleeting moment, a crab apple blossom from the woman’s hair, unable to withstand the rapid movement, fell and was carried by the wind towards Mei Zhuyu, who instinctively caught it in his hand.
The delicate blossom rested in his palm as the woman’s silhouette receded into the distance, framed by the abundance of flowers.
Mei Zhuyu stood motionless, suddenly recognizing the woman as the one he had encountered by the mountain stream days before. For reasons he couldn’t explain, Mei Zhuyu didn’t discard the flower he had inadvertently caught, keeping it in his hand. When he reached the Double Wild Goose Bridge, he unexpectedly saw the woman again.
Spring had arrived unusually early that year, bringing warmth. The peach, apricot, and pear blossoms along the riverbank were in full bloom, creating a canopy of pink and white mist overhead. As Mei Zhuyu stepped onto the bridge, he saw the woman standing on a colorfully painted pleasure boat, surrounded by a group of young men and women.
She held a long bow, with arrows tipped with round red silk pouches, aiming at small drums placed under trees on the shore. With each shot, a drum would burst open with a “thunk,” scattering flower petals and what appeared to be copper coins. Each successful hit was met with cheers and applause from both the boat and the shore.
There were multiple pleasure boats on the river and other archers, but she alone was the center of attention. Her smile exuded confidence and boldness as she rapidly fired arrows, hitting target after target without a miss, leaving her competitors far behind.
Countless eyes from the shore, the boats, and the bridge were fixed upon her, but amid this attention, she seemed to see no one, focused solely on the drums, her spirit high and proud.
Suddenly, Mei Zhuyu stood on the bridge, this moment crystallized his first impression of Chang’an. Seeing her brought the city to life. All that had failed to move him before now seemed vibrant, carried into his heart by the warm breeze of that day.
Later, after settling in Chang’an, he learned her name: Wu Zhen. The second daughter of the Duke of Yu, whose elder sister was the current Empress, she was of noble birth and free-spirited character. After joining the Ministry of Justice, he often heard mention of her and occasionally caught glimpses of her from afar, always on horseback, coming and going swiftly like the wind, never seeming to pause.
“My lord, what are you thinking about?” Wu Zhen’s voice brought Mei Zhuyu back to the present as she gently scratched his chin. Those bright eyes, once impenetrable to all, now clearly reflected Mei Zhuyu’s image.
Suddenly, Mei Zhuyu grasped her hand and said abruptly, “When I proposed marriage, I thought you wouldn’t agree.” But it might have been the first time in his life that he wanted to insist on something, regardless of the outcome. For the sake of the thought that had bewitched his heart, he took the initiative to ask.
He thought that if he couldn’t have her, it would mean they weren’t fated to be together, and he should never think of it again. But to his surprise, she agreed, just like that crab apple blossom that had unexpectedly fallen into his hand, she had come into his life.
Wu Zhen, leaning on his shoulder, smiled and said, “Perhaps you came at just the right time, and I happened to like you.”
“The first time I saw you, I mean when I became a cat to see you, you cleaned the ink stains off my paws and offered your sleeve for me to wipe them. At that moment, I thought, ‘This man is quite interesting.'”
“Later, when I snuck into your house looking for the Unmelting Bone and you caught me, grabbing my wrist and pulling me out from under the bed, I thought, ‘What a perceptive man.’ It was the first time I’d ever been in such an awkward situation,” Wu Zhen chuckled softly.
Mei Zhuyu remained silent, thinking to himself that she hadn’t seemed awkward at all, but rather quite composed.
Wu Zhen, wrapping her arms around his neck, burst into laughter. “But you ended up more flustered than me. The host was even more nervous than the ‘little thief,’ almost tripping over yourself.” At that moment, she had wondered if this man might have feelings for her.
The more Wu Zhen thought about it, the more amused she became, eventually collapsing into Mei Zhuyu’s arms with laughter. Mei Zhuyu held her, gazing up at the moon that had risen unnoticed.
“But I still don’t understand why you like me so much, my lord.”
Mei Zhuyu looked at Wu Zhen in his arms for a moment, then suddenly covered her eyes with his hand. He leaned down to kiss her forehead and recited in a husky voice: “If there be a spirit on the mountain slope, clothed in creeping vines and girdled with orchids. With flirtatious glances and a beautiful smile, you long for me, so graceful and elegant…”
When he finished reciting, Wu Zhen pulled his hand away and asked, “That’s from the ‘Mountain Spirit’ in the ‘Nine Songs.’ Why did you recite this poem, my lord?”
No matter how she asked, Mei Zhuyu refused to say more. His ears had turned slightly red, and his usually clear gaze seemed to avoid her eyes.
Under the bright moon, their whispers gradually faded into the night. All was quiet, with only the red candles burning high.