Red Silk had left.
Chai Xiaomi gazed at that little fiery red figure melting into the moonlight.
Suddenly, she felt that she was like a blazing beam of light in the cold night.
She couldn’t help but think of the story of the Little Mermaid she had once told.
The original story ended like this:
Now the sun rose from the sea. The sunlight gently and warmly shone upon the cold foam, for the little mermaid did not feel like she was perishing.
Yes, the little mermaid did not disappear like foam; instead, after enduring hardships, she became broader and deeper, merging into one with the daughters of the air.
“Mimi.”
Chai Xiaomi heard Wu Li call her, and she just barely snapped back to reality, turning her head to look at him: “What’s wrong?”
His cheeks were faintly flushed, and his eyes, heavy with drunkenness, lazily lifted, opening into a slit to look at her.
“Don’t you like watching fireworks?” he said softly. “I’ve prepared a bouquet of fireworks, meant for you.”
As his words fell, he took her by the wrist and led her to the row of widest windows facing east. One window, two windows, three windows—he reached out and pushed each one open. The night wind, carrying a chill, poured in, making the flames of the red candles throughout the room tremble.
“Stay right here by the window.”
He let go of her hand, took a step back, and stared into her eyes, as if giving the most urgent instruction: “Stand in this spot, watch the night sky, and don’t blink for a second.”
No sooner had he spoken than he turned.
He had already flown out the window.
Chai Xiaomi stood frozen, only blinking after a long while.
That man had been walking so unsteadily just moments ago, like he was stepping on clouds, and she had to reach out to steady him—yet he flipped out the window with such agility, vanishing in the blink of an eye.
She leaned against the window frame and looked outside. The night wind lifted the stray hairs on her forehead.
After waiting a moment,
In the quiet darkness, lights seemed to flicker.
Chai Xiaomi didn’t react at first, thinking they were shooting stars. Squinting to look closer, she realized the light was orange-red, warm and soft, like someone had lit lantern after lantern on the canvas of the night.
Strangely, she didn’t hear the bang of fireworks exploding, nor did she see any flames shooting up from the ground.
Yet in the night sky, countless points of light rose densely.
All the fireworks she had ever seen in her life went “boom” from the center, scattering thousands of stars across the sky.
But this time, those points of light didn’t erupt from a single spot; they surged from all directions, slowly and silently, converging toward the same point.
Among the banquet guests, someone was the first to notice this spectacle and shouted in excitement. In an instant, not only in the Illusory Sound Pavilion, but in every household in Qianwu Town, people scrambled out of their homes, tilting their heads to look at the sky.
The streets became lively, voices rose in a din, and exclamations came one after another.
But Chai Xiaomi couldn’t hear any of it.
She stared blankly at those points of light, which drew closer and closer, denser and denser, coalescing into a vast, tender shape hanging between heaven and earth—a heart.
The orange-red glow spread, burning quietly, lingering for a long time without fading.
Slowly, she curled the corners of her mouth, the light falling into her eyes and igniting in her heart.
Amid a whirl of thoughts, she suddenly remembered the little secret Red Silk had whispered in her ear before leaving:
“Xiaomi, I’ll tell you something quietly. That bow you practiced with in the outskirts—I saw Wu Li making it by hand on the roof all night long. And, he seemed to have carved something at the very bottom of the bow handle. Did you find it?”
Thinking of this, she took out that delicate, compact bow from her storage pouch.
She recalled how, when he handed it to her, he wore a smug expression and insisted he had bought it—that nonchalant attitude, she remembered it vividly.
She ran her fingers smoothly over the handle, moving her fingertips inch by inch downward.
Until the very bottom.
On the inner curve.
Her fingertips suddenly stopped. There, a gritty feeling—like tiny grains of sand—was not the grain of the wood, but traces of knife cuts that had been rubbed over and over again.
Her eyes suddenly lit up.
She raised the bow, bringing it close to the candlelight.
The light spread gently across it, illuminating two small characters, crooked and uneven, not at all neat: “My Wife.”
Chai Xiaomi stared at those two words for a long time.
Outside, the fireworks still shone, the whole town was still noisy, the evening wind still blew softly, and her heart was pounding loudly.
She hugged the bow tightly to her chest.
Her eyes moist, she muttered in a low voice, “Stinky Li Li, hiding it so deep—who would find it! Marrying me is your lucky break!”
In the bustling crowd, a flower girl suddenly pointed at the sky, her voice breaking with excitement: “This, isn’t this the shape Xiaomi is always making!?”
The crowd froze for a moment, then exploded.
“Hey? It really is, yeah!”
“She said this shape represents what?”
“Represents a heart—it means I love you!”
“Ahhh!”
No one needed to guess whose handiwork this was.
The flower girls all covered their faces in unison, stomping their feet on the ground, screams rising and falling. Some were so excited they grabbed each other’s arms, not sure if it was from pain or sweetness, stars shining in their eyes.
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god—the groom made a heart for the bride!”
“Wahhh, they’re a match made in heaven!!!”
“Heavens, where can you find a man like this? I’m staking out the door of the Illusory Sound Pavilion tomorrow.”
Beside them, an older flower girl remarked leisurely, “Staking it out, what for? Can a sweetheart grow out of the ground?”
Everyone laughed until they doubled over, the laughter blending with the screams, melting into that orange-red light.
Amid the joy, Jiang Zhiyu nudged Song Yueyao beside him.
“Yao Yao, look at me quick.”
Song Yueyaoo looked sideways.
There was Jiang Zhiyu, shaping a “heart” with his hands in front of his chest, beaming with a radiant smile.
Song Yueyao stared at him expressionlessly.
“Jiang Zhiyu,” she said seriously, full of disdain, “Leave professional jobs to professionals. Don’t you know, making the same gesture shows a completely different flavor when you do it versus when Xiaomi does.”
Jiang Zhiyu clutched his chest, full of defiance: “I, I’m confessing my love—can’t you tell?”
“So?”
“So?” His eyes widened. “You could at least throw me a ‘heart’ back.”
Song Yueyao didn’t return a heart.
She gave him a thump on the head instead.
“Go cool off somewhere else! I still have an unfinished wish, and men only slow down my sword-drawing speed.”
Jiang Zhiyu held the lump rising on his head, hissing as he sucked in air. But as he rubbed it, he suddenly broke into a grin. The lump was round and pointy, as if… as if it had grown into the shape of a heart.
He chuckled foolishly: “My queen, no matter what your wish is, I’ll stand by your side and see it through with you.”
Song Yueyao looked at the sky, ignoring him.
But the corner of her mouth curled up, ever so slightly.
Not far away, a plump white cat was lazing on a tree trunk.
It first lowered its eyelids, casting a glance at the boiling crowd, where its shamelessly grinning disciple was enthusiastically making weird hand gestures at that girl from the Yao family. First by his face, then over his head, then against his chest.
It lifted its eyelids again and looked up at the sky, swarming with grave bats flapping their wings. Each bat held a lit candle in its mouth, creating the blazing sea of fire above. After all the painstaking effort to summon them through the dark arts, they were used for such a childish spectacle.
It flicked its tail.
What on earth is this thing called “love”?
How can it be more powerful than the magic I spent a lifetime mastering?
It can turn a fool clever, and also make a clever person—into a fool.
