A pale yellow robe, long hair black as raven feathers.
Xie Xinghan knelt before the table, tapping two fingers against her palm as she frowned at the little slips of paper spread across it like snow.
Presently, her fingers stopped. She picked up one slip and gently placed it in the center of the table.
A willow was painted on it, its branches straight and resilient as swords, its leaves drooping softly as silk. Between the dark and light strokes of ink lay an air of lofty grace, as though it stood proudly apart from the world and might soar into the heavens, paper and all, at any moment. The tip of its highest branch extended at a slant, defying convention yet possessing a certain carefree elegance.
Xie Xinghan stared at the willow in a brief daze, then found a second slip.
The second slip depicted a belt. This drawing was very simple, only a few strokes capturing its general shape. Anyone who failed to look closely might have mistaken it for a rope.
Her little face solemn, Xie Xinghan placed the belt below and to the left of the willow, then picked out a slip bearing a heart and set it below and to the right, level with the belt.
She let out a soft breath and solemnly placed the fourth slip beneath the belt and heart, directly opposite the willow-a crescent moon in ink.
The little crescent was adorable, unlike the cold moon in the sky. It looked more like the raised tip of a cat's tail as it curled beside a window, hooked into a curve with a touch of lazy, endearing innocence, its tip playfully curled into a little spiral.
At first, Xie Xinghan smiled at the little crescent she had drawn. Then her expression gradually