The ninth level of the Ten Thousand Dragon-Phoenix Pagoda was like a dreamlike fairyland floating among the clouds. On the starry dome above, flowing light danced like nimble sprites, but now it seemed veiled in a warm, festive glow, imbued with a different sort of tenderness and enchantment. Yet the joy filling the air was not pure as a mountain spring. It was a delicate, gauze-thin tension, almost frozen in place, like the calm before a storm, concealing endless undercurrents.
Queen Medusa sat on the Seven-Colored Lotus Platform. Her rainbow-colored palace robes were like brilliant clouds at the edge of the sky, shimmering with light as if they had gathered all the world's splendor. They cleverly concealed every trace that might give her away, yet they could not hide the faint flush of anger still lingering on her peerlessly beautiful face. Like the burning sunset on the horizon, it carried a hint of petulance and indignation; like flowers blooming in spring, it held a touch of shyness and helplessness. Her purple-gold eyes lowered, deep as a secluded pool concealing endless secrets. Her fingertips unconsciously brushed over her still-flat lower abdomen. That faint yet genuine flutter was like a tiny pebble dropped into the mirror-still lake of her heart, sending out ripples of tangled emotion. Shame and fury burned like a blazing fire, searing her pride; resignation weighed upon her like heavy chains, leaving her short of breath; uncertainty about the future was like a lone boat adrift in fog, unable to find its way forward. And that secret sense of peace, as if everything had finally settled, which even she herself had not noticed, was like a spring breeze gently brushing her heart.
Xiao Zhan stood before the lotus platform, his original green robe replaced by a brand-new black one.