No matter how reluctant he was, when the day of the Qixi Festival arrived, Ye Zhao was dressed up by his mother like a walking fragrant sachet and tossed out the door.
*I’ll just treat it as joining the festivities,* Ye Zhao consoled himself.
As night fell, the prosperity of Tianjing truly began to unfold.
Both banks of the river were ablaze with lights. Along the streets, festive lanterns merged into long, shimmering belts of stars—brilliant, dazzling, and as bright as day. Countless elegantly dressed young men and women moved among them, a scene resembling a celestial realm yet grounded in the bustling life of the mortal world.
A young gentleman in black brocade, his waist cinched by a wide sash and his hair bound in a gold-threaded crown, walked through the streets. He was tall and upright, wearing a white fox mask that revealed only the handsome lower half of his face, inviting curiosity. In his hand, he carried a small, round orange lantern—the kind usually given to small children to play with.
"Yi Mao, do you think I’m just a bit too handsome? Everyone I pass stares at me. Even covering my face doesn't help. Sigh..."
It was truly a helpless sort of trouble.
The leader of the Yulin Guards, who was following closely to prevent any accidents amidst the crowds, remained silent. "..."
"Young Master Ye, let me reiterate: my name is not Yi Mao."
Ye Zhao followed the flow and asked eagerly, "Oh? Then what is your name?"
The man, who had nearly been goaded into blurting out his name several times, gritted his teeth and said with difficulty, "I have nothing to disclose."
Ye Zhao turned his head away, looking bored.
"Furthermore, I believe they are looking at you because you are likely the only person tonight parading around with that kind of lantern."
He emphasized the words "that kind," clearly implying something. Ye Zhao turned back and looked at him silently for a long while. "What do you mean by that?"
The guard said nothing, merely lowering his gaze to the small, round lantern in Ye Zhao's hand.
Ye Zhao glanced at his lantern. It looked fine—round-headed, small, and cute. It was light and cheap, costing only two copper coins. It was much better than those large, heavy, gaudy lanterns!
"What’s wrong with my lantern? Look, isn't there someone over there carrying the exact same one?" Ye Zhao pointed into the distance with his folding fan.
'Yi Mao' looked in the direction he pointed. Indeed, there was someone else carrying that kind of lantern—a child sitting on his father's shoulders. With the small orange lantern in one hand and a candied hawthorn in the other, the child was smiling radiantly.
The guard silently turned his head back, looking at the twenty-something "overgrown child" before him, and found himself speechless. "I suspect no young lady will be carrying a lantern like yours."
Ye Zhao’s lips curled into a smile. "Well, that’s just wonderful then!"
"..."
With that, Ye Zhao turned and walked away, leaving 'Yi Mao' behind to curse inwardly.
Stopping and starting along the way, Ye Zhao happened upon a few acquaintances.
The surface of East Lake was covered with a vast expanse of floating lanterns. Several decorated pleasure boats and painted barges drifted slowly among them, looking like they were strolling through a thousand red lotuses—a scene as beautiful as a poem or a painting.
A large crowd of people and small boats gathered by the shore, watching a grand play being performed on the largest flower boat in the center of the lake: *Lord Tianshu Slaying the Villains, Red Blood Staining the Kingfisher-Green as Red Lotuses Bloom.*
On the stage, a young man in black played the role of Lord Tianshu. He reclined on the stage in a half-sleeping pose. Another person played the zither while a third performed a sword dance; the three of them looked perfectly harmonious.
Then, the man playing Tianshu slowly raised a wine cup and laughed heartily. "A toast to this prosperous era of peace!"
"A second toast: may misfortune turn to fortune, and may the mountains and rivers remain!"
He turned to the other two on stage, clinking cups with a smile. "A third toast: may every year be like today, and may old friends remain as they were."
With that, the three tilted their heads back and drained their cups.
Suddenly, a change occurred. A man in black leaped out with a blade.
Quicker than words could tell, the man in black robes spun upward, graceful as a startled swan. With a diagonal sweep of his blade, he cut the assassin down.
He stood with his back to the audience, his posture lofty and proud. He allowed a single drop of blood to slide slowly down the slanted tip of his sword and drip into the water. Then, a red lotus slowly floated to the surface.
"Bravo!" Cheers and applause erupted from the shore.
"Encore!"
"Hahahaha..." In a secluded corner near the shore, on a small skiff, someone was doubled over with laughter, his stomach aching from the mirth.
From the moment the three on stage began drinking, Ye Zhao had been discussing with the other two whether the performers were drinking wine or water.
When the three toasts were recited, Ye Zhao had asked, "Are those three toasts the man said for real?"
The other two replied, "They are."
Then a smile rose on Ye Zhao's face. When he saw the slow-motion scene of the assassin being slain, he couldn't help but burst out laughing.
Finally, when someone held up a red lotus and raised it from the floor, Ye Zhao went completely wild with laughter.
"Hahahaha... I’m dying, this is killing me!"
"I... I never knew... there were such hilarious plays to watch, hahahaha..."
He clutched his stomach, his voice hitching with gasps for air.
Pei Shian and Wei Xiyang, sitting on the other side, looked helpless. They urged him, "Cough... restrain yourself. It’s not good if people hear you."
Indeed, everyone else was watching with boiling blood and cheering loudly, yet he was treating it like a comedy and laughing uncontrollably.
"Cough, cough..." Ye Zhao tried his best to stifle his laughter, though occasional chuckles still escaped. It took a good while of effort before he successfully stopped.
Because he had laughed so hard, Ye Zhao’s face was slightly flushed and his eyes were a bit moist. Rubbing his face, he asked, "The other two people being portrayed on stage are you two, right?"
"Yes," Pei Shian nodded.
Wei Xiyang felt uncomfortable for a while before speaking up. "What is there to perform about this!" His face carried a hint of embarrassed annoyance.
Ye Zhao smiled. "Heroes are naturally sought after. Any deeds associated with them will carry a legendary color. It can't be helped; the common people love this."
Ye Zhao took a sip of wine for himself, leaning casually against the small table. He sat sideways, one hand propping up his forehead, the other holding his folding fan resting idly on his knee, his knuckles tapping lightly.
To his right was Pei Shian, and on the other side sat Wei Xiyang.
The three chatted idly, while Pei Shian aimlessly plucked at the zither strings.
Suddenly, a cold arrow flew from nowhere.
"Watch out!" Wei Xiyang drew the sword at his waist with a backhand motion, severing the arrow shaft and shielding Ye Zhao and Pei Shian.
The three immediately went on high alert. Ye Zhao scanned the crowd on the shore rapidly. When he spotted a familiar figure, he shouted, "Yi Mao!!"
Almost as soon as his voice fell, over a dozen men in black suddenly lunged from the shore, charging toward Ye Zhao’s group with blades in hand.
The crowd began to panic. The Yulin Guards hidden among the people had already revealed themselves and begun fighting the assassins.
"Ah! Murder!"
"Run!"
"Help!..."
Watching the Yulin Guards and secret guards locked in combat with the assassins on the shore, Ye Zhao turned to see the open water surrounding their small boat. He realized something was wrong and made a split-second decision. "Go! We need to get to shore, fast!"
The other two also realized—if there were people hiding in the water, they would be in trouble!
The small boat slowly docked. It wasn't until Ye Zhao and the others were protected in the center of the Yulin Guards that the situation they feared failed to materialize.
While keeping watch on their surroundings, Ye Zhao found time for a question to surface in his mind—*Why are there only these few assassins this time?*
He felt this assassination attempt was a bit too direct, not quite matching the style of the person watching him from the shadows.
As news spread, the crowd began to panic, surging toward safety.
On a painted barge on East Lake, hearing the commotion from the shore, Princess Xiyue looked up. "Hmm? What happened?"
Hearing the faint screams of the people, Xie Yusong’s expression changed slightly, and he quickly left the cabin.
A moment later, he lifted the gauze curtain and strode back in, his face tense. "Someone is being assassinated on the east bank. From the silhouette, it looks like Ye Zhao, and..."
His voice paused as he turned to look at Pei Yunting, his eyes full of worry. "And Uncle Pei and Uncle Wei are among them as well."
Pei Yunting froze, his eyes narrowing. He stood up abruptly and strode out of the cabin, with the others following close behind.
"Quick! Dock the boat at the east bank!"
With his own father among those being attacked, how could Pei Yunting remain calm? Such a reaction was not surprising. Watching the two groups of men fighting in the distance, Princess Xiyue and the others also felt a surge of tension and worry.
Wei Xiyang was a skilled fighter himself; even in his older years, he could take on two at once. However, having to divide his attention to protect Ye Zhao and Pei Shian made it somewhat taxing.
In the chaos, Ye Zhao snatched a sharp blade from the ground for self-defense, one hand tightly gripping Pei Shian’s wrist without letting go.
"I regret it," Ye Zhao suddenly said.
Pei Shian turned to look at him. "Regret what?"
Ye Zhao kept his eyes fixed on the battle ahead, a smirk playing on his lips. "If I had known I’d be this hated one day, I should have learned martial arts properly since I was a child. By now, I might have been a peerless master. Why would I even care about these small fry?"
One strike, one kill—how satisfying that would be!
Pei Shian replied, "Are these people even worth your concern?"
Ye Zhao raised an eyebrow and turned his head slightly to look at him. A sharp, eager light flickered in his eyes, and the curve of his lips deepened, appearing both proud and arrogant. "Of course not!"
He felt no fear. Instead, as more people bled and fell on the scene, his heart grew calmer. In a hidden corner of his soul, a strange sensation was slowly awakening.
It was like that night at the execution ground—the thrill of walking the line between life and death, the shiver of the first time he killed, the tremor of ordering a massacre. It was like the supreme pleasure of ascending to a high position and ruling over all, making one's blood boil. There was a sense of being incredibly powerful.
Just thinking about it...
*Yes, I can do this. I’m back in the game!*
Ye Zhao, feeling his confidence surge, suddenly radiated an imposing aura.
Just then, an assassin in black broke through the perimeter and lunged at Ye Zhao. Without hesitation, Ye Zhao struck with lightning speed. His blade flashed upward, and in the brief moment they crossed paths, the opponent fell dead.
He spun, his blade humming softly, and came to a halt.
At this moment, his mind was a complete blank. He thought of nothing, could think of nothing; his body moved of its own accord.
Blood dripped slowly from the tip of his blade, blooming into vivid red flowers on the ground. The silk tree blossoms, in full bloom, swirled and fell slowly around him.
By the lakeside, the gentleman in black stood with his sword, his head slightly turned. His gaze was cold and detached, as if looking down upon all living things, yet it carried a seductive, dangerous, and eerie quality.
With just that single turn of his head, he made it impossible for anyone to look away.
The person before them seemed like someone from a painting—part immortal, part spirit, and part demon. He possessed an indescribable charisma that drew the gaze of one person after another.
"That... that is..." Princess Xiyue looked at the figure beneath the silk trees and froze in place, murmuring involuntarily, "Lord Tianshu..."
The scene before her, the person before her, gave her a sense of unreality, as if she didn't know what era she was in. In a daze, it felt as if her soul had entered the painting hanging in her grandmother’s room. She was seeing with her own eyes that night of waning lights from years ago—the man standing at the prow of a boat, sword in hand, whose single backward glance told of all the world's elegance.
Those red blossoms had traveled through countless years, always dancing by that person's side.
They dazzled the world's onlookers and blurred the vision of so many.
For some reason, the black-clad assassins suddenly turned and fled, with the Yulin Guards giving chase.
Standing in the wind, Ye Zhao, feeling thoroughly refreshed, finished his pose and turned around.
A little girl in a red gauze dress stood three paces behind him, looking up at him blankly.
...
After a long moment, Ye Zhao moved. He reached out and caught a falling red silk tree flower.
He stepped forward and crouched down. A gentle smile suddenly bloomed on the young man's face as he tucked the red stamen gently behind the little girl's ear. "A beauty comes beneath the flowers by the moon's side; I offer these red blossoms as a humble gift."
Silently and naturally, he set down his weapon. His slender, jade-white hands slowly drew the little girl into his embrace. He patted her back gently, coaxing her in an extremely soft tone, "Don't be afraid, don't be afraid..."
He thought the scene just now had frightened the child.
Everyone present realized something clearly.
The transition between coldness and tenderness was so swift. One moment, he was a cold-blooded god of slaughter; the next, he laid down his butcher's knife and used those hands, still stained with fresh blood, to pick up a soft flower. He stepped down from his pedestal to embrace a weak, innocent child, coaxing her with a warmth that made one want to weep. Beyond the shock, their hearts were filled with complex emotions.
At this moment, the onlookers were silent.
Ye Zhao, who could only repeat that one phrase while holding the child, felt truly helpless. If he had known a child was present, he wouldn't have shown off like that. He wondered if he had left her with any psychological trauma.
The first to break the silence was the little girl’s soft voice: "I'm not afraid."
She snuggled obediently in Ye Zhao's arms, reaching out her small hands to hook around his neck. She looked up at the gentle person holding her. "You didn't scare me. It wasn't your fault."
Ye Zhao felt comforted, and his heart softened. *What kind of little angel is this? Truly obedient and adorable!*
Ye Zhao picked up the little girl, his smile growing even more tender.
***
Glossary:
Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation
---|---|---
七夕祭 | Qixi Festival | Also known as the Double Seventh Festival, a traditional festival often associated with romance.
一毛 | Yi Mao | A nickname Ye Zhao gave the guard leader. Literally "One Hair" or "A Penny."
天枢公子斩宵小，赤血点翠红莲开 | Lord Tianshu Slaying the Villains, Red Blood Staining the Kingfisher-Green as Red Lotuses Bloom | The title of the play performed on the lake.
合欢花 | Silk tree flowers | Also known as Hehuan flowers or Mimosa flowers; symbolic of union and happiness.
月畔花下美人来，聊表红英以赠之 | A beauty comes beneath the flowers by the moon's side; I offer these red blossoms as a humble gift | A poetic couplet Ye Zhao recites to the little girl.
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