Just one day later, Saturday night's ball at Shanglin Garden had already become somewhat hazy in Zheng Qing's memory.
He could not remember how many witches he had danced with that night, nor did he know when Jiang Yu had come to the dance floor and led him away. He was not even sure whether he had ultimately agreed to Michael Talbot's request to help persuade Dylan to accept his Zombie Bride.
What Zheng Qing remembered most clearly were the slender strands of light drifting across the ceiling like wandering dragons, scattering hazy, magnificent radiance.
Those gleams continued flickering before his eyes even as he sat on Big Mao's back for the journey home.
Of course, that might also have been because they were traveling back at night. Brilliant starlight filled the sky overhead, and as Big Mao raced through the clouds, the stars stretched into long threads of light, looking remarkably like the light strands beneath the ballroom ceiling that night.
"Wake up. Come back to your senses!"
Jiang Yu reached out and swiped twice before Zheng Qing's eyes, as though trying to snatch back his wandering soul. She said irritably, "Are you still thinking about dancing with all those pretty girls last night? Don't be so reluctant to leave. If you really miss it that much, I can take you to the Badminton Winter Hunt at the end of the year!"
Zheng Qing shuddered reflexively and shook his head hard.
"Weren't you the one who told me to dance with them? My legs are practically giving out!"
He did his best to look both annoyed and aggrieved—at a time like this, keeping his head down would no longer fool anyone. He had to seize the moral high ground first and use a counterquestion to carve out more room