The light outside the hall, not especially hot, passed through the carved, openwork wooden windows and scattered patches of light across the room.
Three people were in the hall.
Luo Xianzhi held one hand behind his back and bent the other slightly, clenching it into a fist as he pondered. He clenched so hard that veins bulged across the sharply defined bones of his hand, offering a glimpse of his inner conflict.
Holding a teacup, Xie An turned his head with a startled expression, seemingly somewhat surprised.
A few steps behind him stood a young woman with delicate features and a lively, radiant gaze. Her skin was like snow, her waist like a slender strand of silk, her clever grace like a bamboo grove in a secluded valley.
Behind the screen at her back, several boys poked their heads out, their eyes filled with curiosity.
Xie An set his teacup on the table. A faint smile appeared on his face, but he said nothing.
Luo Xianzhi bowed with meticulous courtesy and asked softly, "May I ask which noble lady of the Xie Clan stands before me?"
Luo Xianzhi asked, but he was not truly asking.
Judging by her age and Xie An's reaction, she had to be his betrothed, Xie Daoyun, the Xie Clan's young woman famed for her willow-catkin verse.
Xie Daoyun returned his greeting gently. "May Your Grace enjoy every blessing and lasting peace."
The reason Luo Xianzhi's father, Luo Youzhi, had arranged his marriage to Xie Daoyun was precisely the incident of the snow verse.
At the time, Luo Youzhi had been a guest at Xie An's residence and witnessed the young Xie Daoyun's quick wit firsthand. Delighted, he had deliberately tested her. Xie Daoyun was an able debater with clear reasoning, which delighted him still more.