The sky suddenly grew overcast, the wind skimming low over the sea, bringing with it moist, salty air.
A wu carried a basket of crabs on her back and lifted her face to look out at the distant ocean.
The surface of the sea had become hazy, and no ships could be seen on the horizon.
Her father, brothers, and Brother Yeh Han had all gone out to sea and had yet to return.
Worried, she came here to look, never expecting that it would start to rain.
Waves splashed up and soaked her trouser legs.
She took off her shoes and placed them in her basket, walking barefoot on the sand.
The sand was wet and compact, feeling wonderfully comfortable underfoot.
A wu liked the sensation of soft sand squeezing between her toes.
As she walked and played, she heard, mingled with the sound of the waves, a faint melody, hauntingly beautiful.
Curious, A wu looked around and spotted a small boat moored in the distance on the shore, half-shrouded in sea mist.
The music was coming from that boat.
She gripped the straps of her basket with both hands, running across the sand, stumbling now and then, and soon she was near.
By now, a light rain was falling.
The surging waves crashed against the rocks, layering sound upon sound.
The zither music was clear and cold, like shattered jade or a phoenix’s cry.
A wu stood at the water’s edge, tilting her ear to listen, only feeling that the music was beautiful—like morning fog, like the evening clouds—marvelous beyond compare, but fleeting as a dream.
She lowered her head, watching the foam gently lap at her feet, while a surge of melancholy and loneliness welled up within her.
She wondered who was playing, and what piece it was, and why, after hearing it, she was so moved, so full of joy, yet so full of sadness.
She thought of seagulls wheeling in the distance, of ships sailing far away, of women who waited year after year for their husbands to return, standing on the rocks, gazing toward the horizon—waiting in vain for the one who never came home.
Life by the sea passed day by day, and in a blink, a thousand years had gone by.
After the changes of time, old, mottled ships lay stranded on the shore, seagulls still flew gracefully overhead, but all else had changed.
Her heart filled with a sorrow she could not express, and tears began to fall.
Only those who have waited in bitter longing can understand this kind of loneliness.
The waves washed over her feet again and again, until finally, they withdrew, leaving only a little fine sand between her toes.
The zither music ceased as well.
She lifted her head, looking toward the small boat.
After a moment’s hesitation, she walked toward it and saw that there was a man in a dark blue robe on the boat, sitting cross-legged before the zither.
A wu gazed at him curiously. He wore a wide-sleeved, dark blue embroidered robe.
His black hair was tied up with a jade hairpin, his eyelids lowered, bearing an air of nobility and cold detachment, as if he belonged to another world.
Those she’d seen before—like Brother Yeh Han and her brothers—were all robust and sun-darkened from years of wind and sun.
Where had she ever seen such a gentleman as this?
At first sight, she was so stunned her heart began to race.
So handsome, so elegant—how could there be such an unparalleled man?
At this moment, his hands rested upon the zither.
His hands were especially beautiful—fair as jade, slender and well-proportioned.
As she watched, his fingers gently plucked the strings, and the lingering notes flowed out once again.
This time, the music was delicate and tender, like the rippling waters of spring—endlessly gentle and full of longing.
A wu listened until her cheeks burned and her ears grew hot, utterly entranced.
She even felt as if a pair of large hands were gently caressing her, melting her heart away.
Just then, the music stopped.
A wu, startled, looked at the man in confusion.
The man slowly raised his eyes, his gaze meeting hers with precision.
Caught red-handed, A wu felt embarrassed and flustered, staring at him with teary, bewildered eyes.
The man’s eyes were a pale tea color, refined and handsome.
His snow-white collar lay against his sharp neck, pressed to the slight rise of his Adam’s apple.
He looked noble and distant, resplendent and fastidious—a stranger from a world she did not know, surely someone far above her.
He was dignified.
Yet now, as he looked at her, his eyes seemed to be filled with intense emotion—grief, and perhaps boundless joy.
This emotion was so overwhelming, it almost burned.
A wu could not understand it and instinctively looked away.
She also felt a bit shy.
She lowered her head, glancing at her sand-covered feet and rolled-up, wet trouser legs, feeling more and more embarrassed.
She had always been this way, always used to it, but before such a magnificent and handsome man, she suddenly felt ashamed of herself.
At that moment, the man rose to his feet.
Once he stood, A wu realized how tall he was, and how upright and elegant that blue robe looked on him, as if he possessed an unbreakable dignity.
The man lifted his robe and stepped down from the boat, walking toward her.
From beginning to end, his eyes never left her.
A wu couldn’t help but look at him again, stealing glances at him nervously.
He walked up to her and smiled.
A wu’s heart fluttered.
When he smiled, he was as beautiful as black jade, so striking her heart trembled.
Could he not be human?
Was he a sea spirit who came to tempt a foolish village girl?
The man’s figure was so tall and upright that, standing before A wu, he had to lower his head a little.
A wu caught a whiff of a cool fragrance, not sure what it was, but it smelled wonderful.
With his eyes lowered, he looked at her and said, “Were you listening to my zither?”
A wu’s face felt scorching, but she still nodded, “You play so beautifully.”
The man gazed into her eyes and asked, “But you listened until your heart ached, and you cried?”
A wu quickly wiped her eyes with her sleeve, denying it, “No, maybe it’s just the rain—I wasn’t crying!”
He took out a handkerchief and offered it to A wu.
“Here, wipe your face.”
A wu looked over.
It was a silk handkerchief embroidered with green bamboo, snowy white, and clearly very precious.
She looked at the handkerchief and said, “No, I’ll get it dirty.”
How could she bear to use it?
Better to take it home and wash it.
The man repeated, “Take it.”
His deep voice was commanding.
A wu had to reply, “All right.”
She took it and wiped her face, then smiled at him.
“Thank you.”
But he did not take it back, only looked at her.
A wu thought he was truly strange and tilted her head, puzzled.
He finally withdrew his gaze and took the handkerchief.
“It was nothing, don’t mention it.”
A wu asked, “Why are you here?”
She looked at the boat and asked, “Is that your boat?”
He smiled warmly and replied, “Yes, it’s mine. I pilot my boat and roam the Eastern Sea, searching every corner of the coast. I’m looking for someone.”
A wu asked, “Looking for someone? Who?”
He said, “Someone who lives in my heart. I’ve searched for her for seven years.”
He gazed at her.
In his calm voice there was a suppressed yearning, “For every day of those seven years, I’ve searched for her—two thousand five hundred days, two thousand five hundred nights.”
A wu was struck.
She was only fifteen; she couldn’t comprehend what it meant to look for someone for seven years—that was half her life.
The man said, “I believe, no matter what she looks like now, no matter who she is, if she hears my zither, she’ll recognize it.”
A wu stared blankly at him.
In those tea-colored eyes surged feelings she could not name, and her own heart felt squeezed, sorrow rising for his sake.
Her fingers trembled with emotion.
He asked, “May I know your name? I am Yong Tianze, courtesy name Zhilan. And you?”
A wu said, “I… My surname is Ning. My given name is just ‘wu’.”
Emperor Jingxi fell silent for a moment after hearing the name, then lowered his eyes and smiled gently, “Then may I call you A wu?”
A wu blushed, “Of course, that’s what my parents call me.”
Emperor Jingxi smiled and said, “You can call me Zhilan.”
A wu said, “All right, Zhilan…”
As those two words left her lips, a strange emotion flickered in Emperor Jingxi’s eyes.
Still, he maintained his gentle composure, patiently coaxing her, “Do you have family at home?”
A wu said, “Several brothers!”
She clutched the basket straps, glancing at his boat, still curious yet worried—what if he really was a sea spirit?
If he was, she’d better run, lest she fall under his spell.
Emperor Jingxi sensed her unease.
“Would you like to come aboard my boat? I can play the zither for you.”
‘The zither?’ A wu hesitated, torn between curiosity and fear.
Emperor Jingxi smiled, reading her mind he said, “I’m not a bad person.”
He paused, then added, “I’m a man, not a ghost.”
A wu peered at him warily and asked, “You’re not a sea spirit either?”
Emperor Jingxi laughed, “No.”
He pointed at the ground, “Look, I have a shadow.”
A wu looked.
Though the shadow was blurred by rain and clouds, it was indeed there.
Just then, the wind picked up, blowing rainwater in a steady drizzle.
A wu quickly took an umbrella from her basket.
Emperor Jingxi said, “Come aboard to shelter from the rain?”
A wu replied, “I have to go home.”
Emperor Jingxi coaxed gently, “You can go once the rain stops.”
A wu hesitated, barefoot in the sand, one hand gripping her umbrella, the other the basket strap, biting her lip in indecision.
Emperor Jingxi did not press her, waiting quietly.
After a while, A wu said, “I want to hear you play again.”
Emperor Jingxi looked at her with such gentle, sorrowful eyes, a faint smile appearing at his lips.
***
The rain outside grew heavier, drumming on the sea, waves making a constant sound.
The man’s boat was actually quite spacious, elegantly furnished in ways A wu had never seen.
In the corner, a bronze stove simmered, filling the air with fragrant steam.
Compared to the chill outside, everything here felt especially warm.
But A wu stopped at the entrance to the cabin, looking down at her feet.
She’d put her shoes back on—straw sandals, rough and nearly worn out, covered in sand.
But the cabin’s floor was covered in costly mats.
She couldn’t bring herself to step on them.
Emperor Jingxi noticed and had her sit on an embroidered stool.
He took a large white cloth and knelt, personally wiping her feet.
A wu felt embarrassed and shrank away. “No need…”
Emperor Jingxi smiled softly, but insisted.
His movements were gentle and careful, never the least bit disrespectful, which made A wu’s heart soften.
He was so kind…
Maybe this was how sea spirits lured village girls—no wonder those girls followed them so willingly.
When he finished, Emperor Jingxi handed her a pair of white silk shoes.
“Put these on.”
A wu, curious, slipped them on.
They were so comfortable—she had never worn such shoes before!
Emperor Jingxi washed up a bit, then poured her tea.
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