67 Battle of Two Hearts (2/2)
”Can't you say something to comfort me?” Meng Fuyao asked unhappily. ”It's not the peach blossom I want.”
Pricking his brows up he responded, ”He did say something quite right.”
”Oh?”
”Men who can't get what they want aren't real men.”
Meng Fuyao went silent. She cleared her throat and settled into her seat, waiting for the selection of ladies to begin.
The selection process wasn't as smooth as the archery competition. Different men were attracted by different ladies and were engaging in heated discussion with flowers in hands. Meng Fuyao was getting sleepy from spectating when someone finally stepped forward to make a report.
Meng Fuyao eagerly turned toward where he pointed and caught sight of a beautiful lady who appeared delicate, her eyelids faint. The way she walked was charming and graceful, and there were an innocence and bashfulness about her facial features. The evening sunset glow shone down onto her face, accenting the tender blush on her face. She was indeed a rare beauty.
The chosen lady, now crowned the goddess of the night's festival, had eligible men approaching from all directions, waiting to ask for her hand in marriage.
Meng Fuyao was all smiles. She had heard that in previous years, the chances of the most excellent archer and the most beautiful lady ending up in marriage had been high. It made sense, of course, and it was almost convention. There was no way this young lady, named Hu Sang, wouldn't pick that silly fellow, Tie Cheng, and there was no way he would reject her as well. When that time came, she would be free.
Meng Fuyao thought happily, failing to notice that the Hu Sang's shy gaze had been drifting onto and off the stage all this while.
The night was falling, and the bonfires were burning strong, the leaping red flames were dancing wildly while adding a layer of gloss to the faces around them. The fragrance of all kinds of meat being roasted above the flames dispersed into the air while oil dripped generously down, producing a non-stop sizzling sound.
Girls wearing complicated floral-designed skirts danced with men in colorful, chest-baring robes, around the fire. Their steps were simple yet joyful and filled with gratitude for the benevolence of their God as they prayed for another year of safety.
Meng Fuyao sat by the fire, gently clapping along to the beat of the music. ”Dance music of the ethnic minorities are always so pure and sincere. Hence, extremely touching,” she smiled tipsily.
Grabbing his knees and observing the festival unfolding, Yuan Zhaoxu asked, ”What is an ethnic minority?”
”Gulp,” Meng Fuyao hiccupped, before turning to him and explaining, ”A tribe with a small number of members.”
”You're always using strange terms, Fuyao,” Yuan Zhaoxu noted while reciprocating her gaze. ”They don't sound like part of the language that is being used within the 5 Region Continents.”
”I invented them,” Meng Fuyao boasted shamelessly. ”I'm more intelligent and outstanding than most, you see.”
”You're always like this...” Yuan Zhaoxu added lightly.
Not hearing it, Meng Fuyao said out of sudden excitement, ”Wanna learn my self-choreographed dance? It's really graceful and suitable for you...”
Before she could finish a wave of cheers sounded, as the beautiful Hu Sang held onto a handkerchief while approaching with a shy smile.
Meng Fuyao kept her eyes on Hu Sang as an ominous feeling was arising within her chest.
Hu Sang looked at no one else. Her eyes were dreamy and filled with anticipation as she was walking over to Meng Fuyao's side.
She bowed lightly, before placing the handkerchief into Yuan Zhaoxu's hand.
Earth-shattering roars filled the building. Hu Sang let out a bashful yet blissful smile before reaching her hand toward his.
Her fingers, placed before Yuan Zhaoxu's, were like delicate and jade-like.
Meng Fuyao stared, only feeling her throat dry up. She attempted to swallow her saliva.
She subconsciously swept her gaze across Yuan Zhaoxu's face, which was calm as usual. There was no surprise or shock. In fact, he was smiling.
Before the fire and under the moon and starlit sky, a beautiful man and woman exchanged eye contact. It was an alluring scene, and even the breeze and cheers seemed to slow down for them as the audience watched the couple attentively.
Meng Fuyao looked away. If Yuan Zhaoxu accepted her handkerchief and invited her for a dance, that matter was settled.
'It's... good, right?'
Meng Fuyao sat there, neither appearing warm nor cold, but her fingers were trembling. Her thoughts were all over the place, and a crazy idea popped up. She resisted it, but it coiled around her brain like a devil.
'If he accepts... if he accepts...'
Beside her, Yuan Zhaoxu's gaze brushed across the lady's fingers. Her hand had been out for what seemed like forever, as it felt as though she wouldn't retract it as long as he did not respond.
She let out an awkward expression, the blush on her face making her look a little drunk. There was sparkling light in her slightly droopy eyes, which were also teary from the long wait. With these eyes, she looked almost obsessively at Yuan Zhaoxu, the god-like man whose grace and elegance she had taken a liking to.
Yuan Zhaoxu moved, not to accept her hand but to pick the handkerchief. Everyone's eyes were on his hand, and they were guessing if he would retrieve it or toss it away.
Suddenly, another hand reached out.
”Aye, what a beautiful lady. My brother over here will like you for sure. Don't be shy, Brother, I know what you're thinking. Come, accept it.”
It was Meng Fuyao. She swiftly retrieved the handkerchief and casually stuffed it into Yuan Zhaoxu's robe.
The crowd went wild, and Hu Sang's eyes lit up.
Yuan Zhaoxu shuddered. It was the first time this calm man had acted in such a manner. He turned his head toward Meng Fuyao and looked her straight in the eye.
His eyes were blacker than the sky, and Meng Fuyao could almost see dark clouds and lightning bolts above a vast, angry sea with rolling waves.