Bai Qian
In a dazed stupor, Bai Qian lingered in a trance long after “Mo Yuan” walked out of their date. She stayed at the tea house until the owner finally kicked her out at midnight so he could close shop.
Back home, she stood in front of her mirror, scrutinizing her reflection for hours until she reached a conclusion.
It was her hair.
Her hair had been dreadful when she met him — dull, plain, unoriginal. That must have turned him off. And her face. Why hadn’t she used a glamour spell? Her bare, natural look had been far too clean, too unadorned. A deeper red — claret or vermilion rouge — would have been wiser.
And her dress. Saints above. The matronly gown she’d chosen was hopelessly unflattering. She should have worn the tight black one that embraced her new curves.
Too many should haves… could haves… would haves… Argh! What was the point of regrets now?
She stomped out of her chamber.
Migu, the ever-dutiful tree sprite, nearly toppled over in alarm. He hadn’t even gathered his bearings before she unleashed her storm.
“Migu! What do you think of this gown? Too conservative? Do I look like an old maid? Should I have worn something low cut in a rich, deep shade of blue like his robe? Do men prefer dark, sexy colors over bright? And my hair! Should it have been curled? Piled up? Migu, what kind of women do you fancy?”
The bark-skinned spirit blinked, flustered. “Your Highness, Migu prefers the color tree-bark brown on women… but then, I am a tree sprite. Unless she has leaf-green hair, I don’t fancy many women.”
Bai Qian scowled. What was she doing asking a tree for dating advice? She stomped out of the kitchen the same way she’d stomped in and returned to her mirror to continue her self-destructive critique.
It was everything.
Every single thing about her was hideously displeasing. No wonder Mo Yuan walked out.
She lashed at the air. “How could you ask him for a second date? How forward! And why—why, Bai Qian—did you confess first?!” She cursed, then collapsed onto her bed in melodramatic despair.
“I said it because I meant it,” she whimpered. “High God Mo Yuan… why must you be so handsome? So dreamy?”
Her sigh rattled the rafters. Throwing her arm over her head, she whispered, “Such lips… soft, surely. Such hands… strong enough to touch me everywhere. And his scent! Clean, fresh, sweet, masculine…” She wriggled. “And best of all, he didn’t grin at me with that idiotic ‘marry me’ leer that every other man wears.”
Rolling onto her stomach, she stacked her hands and propped her chin. Her voice grew solemn. “Forget him, Bai Qian, or you’ll ruin your life. You can’t hold Mo Yuan as the standard for all men. Wipe him from your mind. You’ll never see him again.”
She said it aloud. Privately, she prayed he’d visit her in her dreams.
Ye Hua
Back on Kunlun Mountain, Ye Hua couldn’t stop thinking about her.
He had rejected her cleanly, yet guilt lingered. Perhaps he should have handled it with more tact, but what was the point of delicacy when the end was rejection?
Stupid Mo Yuan didn’t know what he was missing.
If anything, it was unfortunate he hadn’t met her first. Bai Qian, the Fox Princess, had that je ne sais quoi: spirited, playful, sexy without trying. She didn’t even know how beautiful she was — which made her irresistible. Her scent alone lingered in his memory, mouthwatering like warm pastries.
“It’s too late now. Forget it, Ye Hua,” he muttered.
Mo Yuan’s quiet entrance cut him short.
“Dage, you should have gone. You’ve missed out on an excellent match. She was gorgeous.” Ye Hua’s voice was sharper than usual, edged with judgment.
Mo Yuan only said, calm as ever, “Bai Qian comes from an ancient, fine lineage. Of course she is captivating.”
Ye Hua sighed and turned to the mirror, smoothing the curls that always teased out near his temples.
Behind him, Mo Yuan sat serenely at his desk, laying out his calligraphy tools. Ye Hua, as always, rolled up his sleeve and ground the inkstone for him, the sound filling the chamber.
“Dage,” Ye Hua said softly, “why not meet her once? You might regret it if you don’t.”
Mo Yuan dipped his brush, smoothed the bristles. “Ye Hua, I trust you made things clear. Though—” he glanced over, lips curved faintly, “am I hearing interest in your voice? Was she that lovely?”
Was she that lovely?
Ye Hua faltered. Her laugh, her mischief, the way she had looked at him — yes, she was. But it was too complicated now.
He scowled. “What can I do? Announce, ‘Hi, I’m Mo Yuan’s twin, Ye Hua. That day I was impersonating him. Sorry for the prank. But can I touch your tails?’”
Mo Yuan chuckled, entertained. “If the Fox Clan ever learns the truth, I’ll deny everything. I’ll say you stole the invitation and went in my place without my knowledge.”
Ye Hua gasped. “Mo Yuan, would you throw me to the clouds after all I did for you!?” He dropped the ink stick in shock. Ink splattered — Mo Yuan shielded himself with a flick of dragon magic.
“What are the chances you’ll ever see her again?” Mo Yuan’s voice was maddeningly rational. And of course, he was right. What were the chances?
It had been one date. Their worlds barely touched. She was a fleeting memory, nothing more.
Bai Qian
‘Sadness flies away on the wings of time.’
‘Forgiveness is the fragrance the violet sheds on the heel that crushed it.’
‘The day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was greater than the risk to blossom.’
‘Love will come when it’s ready, not necessarily when you are.’
‘A wounded deer leaps highest.’
Bai Qian tilted her head, musing. “Hmm… do Foxes leap higher than deer?” She shrugged, nose buried back in the book.
The next line:
‘Love often makes itself visible in pain.’
‘Let your tears come. Let them water your soul.’
‘The heart will break, but broken live on.’
‘You don’t die of a broken heart… you only wish you did.’
She groaned. “What kind of book is this? Why is every quote so depressing!?” She flipped to the cover.
Heartbreak for Dummies — Immortal Translation.
Her fury erupted like a volcano. With a violent flick, the book turned into a cloud of confetti.
Her eyes narrowed. “Zhe Yan…” she hissed.
Of course it was him. The Medicine God always knew where to pour lemon juice in her wounds. He had even left bottles of peach wine and a note:
Xiao Wu, don’t fret. This too shall pass. Soon Mo Yuan — dashing, potent, gallant God of War — will be a distant memory. You won’t even remember his magnificent name.
She nearly combusted on the spot.
Mo Yuan
The Fox Clan’s bafflement at his refusal didn’t surprise Mo Yuan at all. Nor did Zhe Yan’s sudden appearance on Kunlun Mountain to discuss it.
“She’s perfect,” Zhe Yan declared. “Prestige, influence, beauty. A young trophy bride!”
Mo Yuan answered all Zhe Yan’s questions with one word: “Nothing.” Nothing he disliked. Nothing he liked.
“Bai Qian is charming, beautiful,” he explained finally. “This is but a small event in her long life.”
But Zhe Yan wasn’t finished. With wicked delight, he revealed that Bai Qian had gone into seclusion, then emerged burning her entire wardrobe, declaring everything unsuitable. Afterward came a spree — new clothes, new styles, endless interrogations of her brothers until they fled in terror.
Mo Yuan listened, impassive — until Zhe Yan added she was dieting so she could wear a breastplate beside him in battle. Then he chuckled, despite himself. It was adorable.
Zhe Yan grinned. “I have a magnificent idea. Meet her again — but act like a bastard. A rake, a scoundrel. Let her dump you. She’ll heal faster.”
Mo Yuan considered the advice gravely, unaware that Zhe Yan had deliberately emphasized Bai Qian’s blossoming curves. Once, before he was Master of Kunlun, Mo Yuan had preferred maidens just like her.
Ye Hua
Was it love at first sight? Did she change him?
Not exactly.
Time moved on, seasons turned, and soon a year had passed without Bai Qian reappearing. Their meeting became a distant, pleasant memory, nothing more. Ye Hua drowned himself in endless Celestial paperwork, his duty as Crown Prince.
Yet sometimes he thought: If only I could break free and discover who I am. What I even like or dislike.
One such day, lost in thought, his guard rushed in. “Your Highness, Princess Bai Qian of Qingqiu awaits outside.”
Ye Hua froze. “What!? Now? Does Heavenly Lord know she’s here!?”
The guard confirmed: she had permission, and wanted privacy.
Ye Hua’s heart pounded. “No! Not here — improper for an unmarried woman to enter. I’ll go to her. Tell her to wait in my courtyard.”
He slapped his forehead so hard it reddened. His knees wobbled like bean sprouts and he collapsed sideways, groaning. “I told Mo Yuan it was a terrible idea!”
Then he pulled himself up and muttered a pep talk. “Deny, deny, deny. It was all Mo Yuan’s fault. He threatened me!”
A glance in the mirror steadied him. His robes gleamed, his reflection flawless. “You are one dapper fellow,” he told himself, straightening.
He strode out, Crown Prince confidence radiating… only to crumble when Bai Qian’s round, curious eyes fixed on him with disarming intensity.
He froze, sweating. Staring was all he could manage.