Liang Qingluo discovered that the excuse Pei Huai’an helped her come up with was indeed effective. At the very least, Qingjian’s gaze no longer dodged her entirely, and now and then it would land on her, intentionally or not.
After the Bathing Buddha Festival, Pei Huai’an used the same reason to invite her out a few more times.
But he had just entered officialdom, and after only a short time of observation at the Hanlin Academy, he became an attendant scribe, assisting in managing books and documents—he was quite busy. Sometimes, even his days off were taken up by work, so he could only ask her out once or twice a month.
In the blink of an eye, July had arrived, and the Qixi Festival was drawing near. On Pei Huai’an’s way home from work, Liang Qingluo stopped him and invited him to a teahouse nearby to discuss her plan to confess her feelings to Qingjian again on the Qixi Festival.
Pei Huai’an’s hand tightened slightly around his teacup. He lifted his eyes to look at her. “You want to confess your feelings to him again? Isn’t that too hasty?”
“If I keep delaying, my mother really will force me to marry someone else.”
“Who does your mother want you to marry?”
“A cousin on my grandmother’s side. He’ll be coming to the capital next month to deliver festival gifts to my family. My mother wants me to meet him, and if things go well, she’ll set the engagement…”
Pei Huai’an frowned. “If Qingjian refuses you again, what will you do?”
“If he rejects me again, then there’s really no reason for me to persist.”
“Are you going to marry that cousin, then?”
“I haven’t decided yet, but we should always be prepared for the worst.” Liang Qingluo cradled her teacup, her face full of hope. “But what if Qingjian doesn’t reject me this time?”
Pei Huai’an’s eyelids drooped slightly. “Very well. On the night of Qixi, I’ll help you arrange to meet him.”
The day before Qixi, the Pei family set up a decorative tower in their courtyard, arranged Mohele dolls, flower melons, wine, food, brushes, inkstones, and sewing implements, and lit incense. This was known as “Seeking Skill.”
On such a special day for lovers to meet, Pei Huai’an naturally didn’t want to disturb his elder brother and Shen Youran, so he went straight to Qingjian, intending to ask for his help.
“Will you go with me to the side of Zhuque Bridge tomorrow night?”
“Tomorrow is Qixi. Where is Young Lord Seven planning to go?”
“There’s no need to hide it from you—Qingluo wishes to see you and asked me to help arrange it.”
Qingjian looked at him with some confusion. “Don’t you like her? Why do you want me to see her?”
“She’s never wanted to see me, only you.”
“So you don’t like her?” Qingjian persisted in his unanswered question.
Pei Huai’an still wanted to put up a front. “I don’t like her.”
“You do like her,” Qingjian said firmly. “The way you look at her is a lot like the way my lord looks at his wife.”
Since he couldn’t hide it, Pei Huai’an admitted, “Fine, maybe I do like her a little.”
“It’s not a little. It’s a lot.”
“Let’s not talk about this now. You have to go with me to see her tomorrow night.”
“I won’t go.”
“If you don’t go, she’ll be heartbroken.”
“If I go but reject her, won’t she be heartbroken all the same?” Qingjian said indifferently. “Just pass on a message for me—I will never like her.”
“I can’t deliver such a message. If you want to refuse her, you should tell her yourself.”
Qingjian’s face was cold. “I won’t go.”
Pei Huai’an had anticipated this outcome. He leaned closer, a slight smile at the corner of his lips. “Are you sure you won’t go? Because I know a secret of yours…”
“What secret?”
Pei Huai’an tilted his head and whispered something in Qingjian’s ear. For the first time, an expression of alarm flickered across Qingjian’s usually calm face.
On the night of Qixi Festival, by Zhuque Bridge, Qingjian stood stiffly, watching the young lady before him, who offered him a paired lotus and a scented sachet.
The stitching on the sachet was crooked; the embroidery was as poor as Shen Youran’s.
Qingjian refused to take it. “I’m sorry, I don’t have the habit of wearing sachets.”
Liang Qingluo awkwardly withdrew her hand, still unwilling to give up. “Th-then, do you like flowers? I just bought this paired lotus—it’s quite rare.”
“That’s fake. Two unopened lotuses stuck together. There aren’t that many true paired lotuses in the world.”
“Then what do you like?” He didn’t want the sachet or the flower. “Qingjian, have you, well, have you started to like me even a little lately?”
Qingjian looked at the nervous girl in front of him, her eyes as clear as morning dew, filled with both shyness and hope, making it hard for him to be heartless.
But kindness or not, he had decided to cut things off quickly. “I’m sorry, Miss Liang. I do not like you. I never have, not before, not now, and I never will.”
Not a hint of gentleness—cold, unfeeling words spilled from his mouth.
Someone at the bridge set off fireworks, scarlet-gold and silver-white flames splitting the night, lighting up both banks as bright as day, and also illuminating his face that held not a shred of affection for her.
The fireworks kept bursting one after another, but Liang Qingluo wished more than anything to disappear into the night.
It felt like a wad of cotton was stuck in her throat. Choking back a sob, she forced herself to smile. “I see… Then, may I ask, why don’t you like me?”
The quieter he became, the more wretched she felt by contrast.
“Tell me—why don’t you like me?” Liang Qingluo stubbornly blinked back her tears, looking straight at him. “Is it because you already like someone else?”
Qingjian’s expression remained silent.
Liang Qingluo caught a flicker of something in his eyes. Suddenly, she realized, “You really do like someone else?”
“No.”
Liang Qingluo often visited the Pei residence and knew he spent nearly all his time there, rarely interacting with other girls, and didn’t enjoy idle conversation. She actually got along with him rather well.
“So who do you like, then? Is it Danruo? Or Qinghe?”
“I should be going. Young Lord Seven will take you home.” Qingjian glanced into the distance. Seeing Pei Huai’an watching, he exchanged a look to indicate he’d said everything that needed to be said, then turned and left without the slightest hesitation.
Liang Qingluo wanted to grab him and ask who he liked, but after taking a single step, she forced herself to stop.
Perhaps it was better not to know.
The girl he liked was surely someone she knew. If she found out, what would she do when she saw that girl again?
“If you don’t like me, you don’t like me! I won’t ever like you again!”
Liang Qingluo flung away the sachet she had sewn over several nights, then tore apart the paired lotus in her arms, revealing a clean cut on one stem—sure enough, it had been cut and forced together. A fake paired lotus.
She had spent a whole hundred coins on it. Thinking of what the flower seller said, Liang Qingluo muttered, “Said something about ‘two blossoms, perfect match, tied by fate’—all lies, you swindler!”
“What are you throwing flowers for?” Pei Huai’an’s voice sounded above her. In the next moment, he snatched the lotus from her arms. When she looked up, she saw his ever-gentle smile. “Rejected again?”
Strangely enough, when Qingjian had rejected her just now, she had been upset, but managed not to cry.
Yet seeing him appear before her with that smiling face, she suddenly couldn’t hold it back anymore. She burst into tears. “The rotten flower seller tricked me…”
“You’re crying over a flower?” Pei Huai’an was half amused, half exasperated. “I thought you were crying because your beloved rejected you.”
“I’d never cry over him! I’m just upset that I spent a hundred coins on this rotten flower, and it’s a fake—not a real paired lotus at all!”
Pei Huai’an took out a handkerchief and wiped her tears. “Want me to help you argue with the flower seller?”
She stamped her foot. “I don’t want to argue with the flower seller!”
“Then what do you want to do?”
“I want to cry…”
Her crying drew glances from passersby, many of whom assumed he’d made the young lady cry, their looks tinged with suspicion and disdain.
Pei Huai’an could only take her hand and lead her away. “Come on, let’s find a quiet place for you to cry.”
The weeping girl followed him through the noisy crowd, heading west, until at last they found a secluded spot.
There were no lanterns here, only the moonlight spilling down, illuminating the tear-streaked face of the girl.
She wasn’t crying quite as loudly now, but the tears kept falling, one after another.
Each one, Pei Huai’an gently wiped away with his handkerchief. When half the cloth was soaked, and she still showed no sign of stopping, he lifted her tear-stained face. “Don’t cry. I really can’t stand seeing others cry.”
“I don’t want to, but I just can’t stop…”
So Pei Huai’an continued to wipe her tears. “I’m sorry. I knew Qingjian would only come to refuse you, yet I still made him come.”
“You don’t have to apologize to me. You’ve helped me so much. It’s just that I… failed myself.”
“From now on, don’t like Qingjian anymore, all right?”
Liang Qingluo murmured, “I won’t like him. I’ll never like him again.”
Her voice was thick with the sound of weeping. Pei Huai’an, watching her sniffle, pressed his handkerchief to her nose—expecting her to blow it.
How could she do such a thing in front of him?
Embarrassed, Liang Qingluo took the handkerchief, turned her back, and wiped her nose clean.
Naturally, the handkerchief couldn’t be used again, nor could she simply give it back. So she wrapped it in her own handkerchief, tucked it into her sleeve, and turned to him. “I’ll wash your handkerchief and return it to you.”
“Very well.” Pei Huai’an had no objection to her keeping his handkerchief. Even if she never returned it, he wouldn’t mind. “Still want to cry?”
“I’m trying hard not to.” Liang Qingluo bit her lip to stifle her sobs. Lifting her hand, she rubbed her eyes, but only ended up drawing out more tears.
With no handkerchief left for either of them, she had to wipe her eyes with her own sleeve.
Pei Huai’an’s gaze wandered from her tear-flushed cheeks to those cherry lips dampened by tears. She had bitten down on one lip, her teeth leaving deep marks—it looked painful.
He reached out and cupped her face, her small chin fitting perfectly in the crook of his hand, his thumb pressing gently into her soft cheek, easing her self-inflicted pain.
“I’ll teach you a way to stop crying. All right?”
She gazed at him through misty eyes. “What way?”
His hand moved to the back of her head, steadying her, guiding her to tilt her face upward.
She was puzzled but trusted him, so she let him tilt her neck back.
He stared at her slightly parted lips, heat rising in his gaze, his voice carrying a trace of huskiness difficult to detect. “Remember to follow my lead.”
Through her tears, his handsome face grew larger before her. Startled, her lips parted unconsciously.
She tasted him.
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