Flutter

Mingyao was attentive as Chen Xiao recited his poem. His eyes told a story, one she knew all too well. Those were the eyes of someone hiding behind a mask. Perhaps his hedonistic character was a veil concealing a wounded soul—or, on the contrary, a cunning one.

Now, she was equipped with the tools that would surely make him hers.

Mingyao stood from her seat, volunteering to present her own poem.

She walked up to the stage, all eyes on her. Her flowing blue hanfu was still stained, but she didn't care. It gave her a quirky, carefree look—a personality she planned to cultivate to its fullest. After all, Chen Xiao had been surrounded by graceful women all his life; perhaps a new type of woman would make his heart flutter.

Chen left the stage, leaving room for Mingyao to compose her masterpiece. He returned to his table, his eyes glued to the intriguing figure that was Mingyao.

The audience, still moved by Chen's poetic masterpiece, began to settle down. Some were amazed; others had been brought to tears. Now, they braced themselves for the next performance. Most of them doubted her skills. What could a woman possibly know about composing poetry, they thought?

A few wanted to drive her off the stage, but they refrained. They didn't want to spoil the mood, nor did they wish to antagonize one of Chen's women. It wouldn't be the first time a woman took the stage, so they resolved to let her make a fool of herself.

Mingyao scanned the audience. She could feel their hostility. They didn't want her there, but she ignored them. She wasn't doing this for any of them. This was for the mission. She was going to capture Chen through poetry.

Taking a deep breath, she slowly exhaled, setting her face into the perfect expression for the poem she was about to present. Then she began:

"Beneath the mountain, where shadows fall,

An ancient tree stood, guarding all.

Spring's whispers gentle, summer's blaze,

Autumn's quiet fade, winter's haze.

Then came a logger, axe in hand,

His heart of stone, he could not stand.

The tree fell softly, and I lost my voice,

An empty space remains, by choice.

Tears fall like rain, yet none will know,

For what was lost remains below."

When Mingyao finished her poem, tears formed in her eyes. She wanted to hide them—they made her feel vulnerable—but when she saw the compassion in her target's gaze, she decided to let them fall. They would serve her purpose even better. Though the poem highlighted how much she missed her mother, no one else would know its true meaning.

The audience, once skeptical, now felt the wave of strong emotion the poem conveyed. Many were brought to tears. Even those who doubted her skill had to admit: this poem rivaled, if not surpassed, the work of the great Chen Xiao.

Xiulan, standing at the back, cried the most. She alone understood the poem's deeper meaning. She longed to rush on stage and console her prince, but she held back. She wouldn't jeopardize his mission, no matter how much it pained her.

Chen climbed onto the stage, praising Mingyao's poetic masterpiece before declaring her the winner of the week's poetry gathering.

Yet Mingyao didn't appear as thrilled as he expected. Still crying, she sank to her knees. The audience was confused, whispering among themselves. Chen quickly approached her.

"Miss, you shouldn't cry. You won the competition."

Mingyao wiped her eyes quickly, "I… I wasn't trying to win a competition. I just wanted to express the grief in my heart."

Chen Xiao gave her a soft smile. "I understand. Losing someone you love is tough, but we must move on. Now, wipe your face. You're pretty when you smile."

Chen helped Mingyao to her feet and escorted her to their table. The audience watched, wondering: was this the beginning of a love story?

The women in the audience, however, wore different expressions. They didn't like this new competition at all.

Mingyao's spoke her voice low and hesitant. "Young master, I will take my leave now. I don't feel comfortable with the way everyone is looking at me," 

"Are you leaving already? What about your winnings?"

Mingyao shook her head, her eyes avoiding his. "I don't need them. I've gotten what I came for."

"Really? Then what about a stroll outside?"

"A stroll outside?"

"Yes, I'd like to get to know you."

Mingyao paused, her fingers gripping the fabric of her sleeve. "But…"

"It's only for a little while."

She bit her lip, glancing around before meeting his gaze. "I don't know…"

Chen Xiao's eyes were pleading. "Please. What is your name again, my lady?"

Mingyao hesitated. She couldn't use her real name. For now, she would give him a false one—something to protect her identity if the plan failed.

"My name is Shen Yueqing, Master Chen."

"Shen Yueqing… What a lovely name you have."

"Thank you, Master Chen."

"So, what do you say? Would you join me for a stroll?"

Mingyao paused, looking up at him for a moment before glancing away. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt. I do enjoy my time with you."

"Excellent, Lady Shen. Let's enjoy a stroll together, shall we?" Chen said, leading Mingyao out of the Golden Orchid Pavilion.

The scent of sizzling skewers and fresh pastries filled the air as merchants shouted over one another, their colorful fabrics and trinkets catching the golden glow of day light.

Carriages rumbled over uneven cobblestones, their wheels groaning under the weight of hidden noble passengers, shrouded behind silk curtains. Pedestrians weaved through the crowd—scholars with scrolls, children clutching candied hawthorn, and beggars sitting by the road, their eyes pleading for coins.

Suddenly, Mingyao grabbed Chen Xiao's hand and began running, weaving through the crowd. Chen followed, confused but relaxed.

"Why are we running, Lady Shen?" he asked, bewildered.

"No reason! I just want to feel the air as we run. It's the best way to feel free!"

Her laughter rang out, infectious and joyous. Chen tightened his grip on her hand and increased his pace, taking the lead. Mingyao followed, squealing with delight.

"Yay!"

She had achieved her goal—escaping Xiulan, who would undoubtedly have been a third wheel.

After stopping, panting from the run, they found themselves across the Dongxi River. Mingyao decided to set aside her seduction plan for a while and simply enjoy the moment.

She darted between food stalls, sampling skewered meats, dumplings, and candied fruits. She offered bites to Chen Xiao, who initially refused but eventually joined in.

Chen Xiao expected quiet conversation, perhaps a polite exchange of words. Instead, he found himself pulled into Mingyao's world—one of laughter, of stolen bites of food, of running through the streets as if no one was watching. He caught himself smiling before he realized it. When had he last felt this light? She was unlike any woman he had ever met.

Finally, as they sauntered down the street, Chen tried to start a conversation.

"Lady Shen, do you have any siblings?"

Mingyao glanced at him smiling. "I do. One blood sister. But if we're counting those I consider family, I have many," 

Chen Xiao's eyes brightened. "That's wonderful. I wish I had such connections. My siblings see me as a failure."

"How is that possible? You seem so refined and charming."

He gave a quiet, bitter chuckle, looking away toward the river. "I'm the illegitimate Chen. My father despises me, my siblings mock me, and even my own mother hates me."

In a gentle voice, "I'm sorry to hear that." 

They stopped at the bridge, gazing at the river. 

Mingyao traced the edge of the bridge railing, her fingers skimming the cool stone. She stopped then sighed. Her voice was soft when she finally spoke, barely more than a whisper. "I miss my mother."

Chen paused, startled by the shift in mood.

"Is she not in the capital with you?"

Mingyao shook her head, her gaze faraway. "She's… far away."

"You could write to her, couldn't you?"

She glanced at him, "If only I could. The poem I recited earlier was my way of grieving her."

Chen nodded slowly, his voice soft."I'm sorry for your loss,"

They stood in silence, the city's noise fading in the background. Mingyao's fingers brushed the bridge's railing, her gaze fixed on the ground as her voice faltered.

"I have something to tell you, Master Chen."

He frowned slightly, his tone concerned. "Lady Shen, are you about to cry again? Please don't. You're beautiful when you smile."

Mingyao's lips quivered as she let out a shaky breath. "Don't try to comfort me. I'm… a big, fat liar."

Chen tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"I didn't randomly walk into Jin Lan Pavilion. I'm a courtesan from Yin Lian Pavilion."

Tears streamed down her face as she broke into sobs. Before Chen could respond, Mingyao turned and ran. Outwardly, she cried; inwardly, she smiled.

She had captured his attention. Now, it was time to push her plan further.