The lights in the living room were on. The television was playing what seemed to be some historical drama, its male and female leads whispering sweet nothings amid pavilions and towers. The volume was low, but in the quiet night, it sounded especially clear.
Someone sat on the sofa.
An extraordinarily beautiful young girl.
She wore an elaborate headdress. Layer upon layer of silver pieces, silver bells, and floral silver horns formed a towering silhouette, as though a miniature range of silver mountains rested atop her jet-black hair. Fine silver tassels hung from the brim of the crown, each tipped with blood-red coral beads.
She wore a long red dress. Her top was snug, embroidered with entwined dragons and snakes, while her sleeves were wide, exposing two frost-pale wrists. Heavy layers of silver neck rings hung across her chest, pressing down silver locks and bells engraved with ancient, mysterious totems.
She held a Pale Bone Staff. Her pleated skirt trailed to the floor, its hem embroidered with exaggerated, distorted patterns of snakes, dragons, and stars in multicolored silk thread, with tiny silver pendants lining the edges. She looked like a figure who had stepped out of an ancient mural, or an exotic priestess who belonged only in some fantasy film.
When she noticed He Xiaomeng enter, she shifted her gaze away from the television, turned her head, and met his eyes.
What kind of eyes were those?
They shimmered like rippling water, as though they held two pools of spring water within them, yet they carried an indescribable melancholy. That sorrow seemed to seep from her very bones, as if she had waited for him for a long time, and he had wronged her for just as long.
The girl rose to her feet.
As she moved, the silver ornaments