"May I ask who you're looking for, my friend, calling at my humble home so late?"
The man who opened the door held an oil lamp. Its light illuminated his eyes, blue-violet pupils as dazzling and dreamlike as starlight, enough to draw someone in with a single glance.
"Hello. Are you Zhao Mingyin?" Zeng Mu asked tentatively, studying him closely.
He was about twenty-four, dressed in a pale pink night robe and woven vine shoes. A pendant hung around his neck, bearing a thumb-sized agate, a warm-white stone naturally shaped like a plum blossom basking in sunlight.
"Yes, that's me. Who are you?" he asked warily. After all, someone calling this late was unlikely to be a patron of his poetry or performances. And since his visitor was a man, there was even less reason for him to come at this hour.
"My name is Nameless. I came specifically to see you."
With the hint of a smile, Zeng Mu pulled the little raccoon hat he had bought at the flower shop from his waist. "Your poetry is absolutely dreadful. My wife has become obsessed with you."
At those words, Suoliya hurriedly reached out and pulled him inside, then glanced outside several times. Only after confirming there were no spies did he shut the door tight.
Everything inside was neatly arranged. Many splendid outfits lay on the wooden cabinets, and numerous hats hung from wooden racks, all things used for lively dances and performances. Perhaps because of all the flowers and plants he kept, there were no unpleasant odors inside. Instead, the air was delightfully fragrant. It felt less like a man's home than that of an unmarried young woman.
"Come with me." Carrying the oil lamp, Suoliya led Zeng Mu toward the basement before he had finished looking around.