Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Festival of Weaving Skills (III)

Wen Wuniang glanced into the distance and saw Wen Qi craning her neck in this direction, looking intently. She was momentarily taken aback; she had been so absorbed in her outing with Su Mu that she hadn’t looked back at all. Inwardly, she scoffed—so, after all, they didn’t trust her and had followed her all this way.

“Ouch! Do you walk without looking where you’re going?” Wen Wuniang, distracted for a moment, was stepped on several times by someone in the crowd. She inhaled sharply, then looked up and snapped angrily.

“What are you saying? You think I wanted to step on you? The people in front were retreating, so I had to move back, too. Or would you prefer to trample on me a few times?” The man rolled his eyes at her, his expression clearly saying, “You didn’t move, so why blame me?”

“You—” Wen Wuniang glanced at Su Mu beside her, but swallowed the retort that rose to her lips. She had no desire to appear a shrew before Su Mu, so she settled for glaring daggers at the man.

But what the man said wasn’t entirely wrong. The crowd had indeed parted, for no one wanted to be face-to-face with a bull. Livestock were not sedan bearers; a single blow from those horns could mean death or grave injury. Though the bull plodded slowly, there was no guarantee it wouldn’t suddenly go berserk.

Yet, rather than blame or scold, the onlookers smiled and laughed as they watched the man and his bull. It was the Qiqiao Festival, after all—with an ox and a handsome young man, the festive atmosphere was only heightened. Besides, the world is always more forgiving to those who are handsome.

Wen Wuniang looked more intently and realized that the “culprit” was the young man riding the bull. She scrutinized the youth in white: not dressed in finery, lacking any luxurious trappings, and with a casual, unrestrained manner—not at all the bearing of a noble scion. She assumed he was some mischievous gentleman making a spectacle of himself.

She turned and said, “Young Master Su, look at that man—disturbing the peace in the street. Isn’t there a law about this…”

But before she finished, she suddenly noticed the young man in white was smiling at her. She was momentarily transfixed, the rest of her words dying in her throat. Su Mu was already considered handsome, but compared to this youth in white, he paled considerably. Still, having already set her sights on Su Mu as her future husband, she inwardly devalued any man who surpassed him in looks.

“Feiran…” Su Mu’s eyes widened in disbelief, his voice barely above a whisper.

Ji Changge, too, had spotted Su Mu in the crowd—his sumptuous attire made him stand out. He also caught sight of Wen Wuniang at Su Mu’s side, and clearly overheard her earlier words.

Wen Qi had squeezed her way through as well, thinking Wen Shilang might have come to see the bull and so had come searching. But she was disappointed to find no sign of him.

“Your humble servant greets Lord Ning,” Su Mu stepped forward and bowed low.

Lord Ning?! Wen Wuniang was instantly petrified, inwardly cursing her own wretched tongue. How could she have failed to recognize this strikingly handsome man as none other than Ji Changge, the most beautiful man in the capital? And she had offended him the very moment they met. Wen Wuniang’s dreams of becoming a noble lady now seemed to shatter completely. If only she could take back her words! At least with such a face, she wouldn’t be entirely without a chance. This Lord Ning could fulfill all her fantasies about the future. She had always thought, from stories of how Wen Qiniang was ill-treated by him, that Lord Ning was no good—but now, faced with him, she realized how wrong she’d been. Next to Ji Changge, Su Mu seemed little more than a passing stranger.

“Cousin Su, there’s no need for formality,” Ji Changge replied coolly. “This isn’t the court; you may address me as before.”

Su Mu straightened, somewhat surprised. “Cousin Feiran, what brings you here?”

“I’ll explain later.” Ji Changge’s gaze floated toward Wen Qi, who stood not far away, anxiety written all over her face. Without waiting for Su Mu to reply, he walked toward her.

Wen Wuniang, still pondering whether Lord Ning had overheard her earlier from a distance, hoped that perhaps he hadn’t, and she was being paranoid. She was just about to go over and exchange a few pleasantries when she realized that Ji Changge hadn’t even spared her a glance, but instead had turned toward Wen Qi. Was he here for that little vixen? Her astonishment quickly turned to anger. Was every man in the world drawn to her alone?

“Qiniang, what are you looking for?” Ji Changge asked. The moment he saw her, he was momentarily dazed—time seemed to rewind to the Qixi Festival two years ago: the same shade of green, the same bustling street. The only thing that had changed was that, back then, Wen Qi’s gaze was fixed solely on him; now, he was no longer in her heart…

Wen Qi had no time for questions; her mind was entirely occupied by Wen Shilang. If anything happened to him, she would bear the guilt all her life.

“I’m looking for my younger brother Shilang. He ran off somewhere just now, and I can’t find him.”

Ji Changge surveyed the dense crowd. Finding a child in this press of people would be difficult. After a moment’s thought, he took Wen Qi’s hand.

Startled, she had no time to protest before he grasped her waist and, in a flash, she soared into the air!

The crowd gasped in astonishment as Ji Changge’s moon-white robe fluttered in the wind and Wen Qi’s green dress merged with his white, the two of them together seeming almost celestial, as if they were ascending to the heavens.

“Truly the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl descended to earth!”

Some townsfolk even fell to their knees and bowed in their direction.

Wen Wuniang and Su Mu stared in amazement with the rest of the crowd, even they awestruck by what they had just witnessed. Wen Wuniang gazed at the pair standing among the branches, inwardly amazed—wasn’t Lord Ning supposed to detest Qiniang? And didn’t she, in turn, despise him?

Wen Qi looked out over the sea of people. Though she now stood higher, she still couldn’t make out anything below. Just as she was about to speak, Ji Changge lit a firework and tossed it into the sky.

With a thunderous bang, brilliant fireworks blossomed above!

“How beautiful…” Everyone craned their necks, gazing at the breathtaking flowers of light overhead.

After a brief moment, darkness fell again. Ji Changge tossed another firework skyward and asked, “Do you see Shilang?”

Wen Qi strained her eyes, searching as hard as she could, and finally spotted Wen Shilang amidst the crowd, clapping and cheering—clearly drawn by the fireworks, too. Relief flooded her heart.

“Put me down,” she said.

Ji Changge wrapped his arm around her waist once more, and in the blink of an eye, leapt to the ground.

Wen Shilang, his mouth stuffed full of food, rushed over.

“Where did you run off to?” Wen Qi asked angrily.

Wen Shilang managed to swallow his mouthful and replied, “I went to buy fried dumplings. When I turned around, I couldn’t find you anymore. Seventh Sister, what was that flower in the sky just now?”

“How did you pay for it?” Wen Qi narrowed her eyes at him.

Wen Shilang chuckled awkwardly and scratched his head. “I told the vendors to go to the county yamen for payment tomorrow. They all know where it is, so it’ll be fine.”

Wen Qi’s lips twitched. So young, and already learning to run up debts…

Wen Baniang also hurried over, fuming and ready to scold Wen Shilang, but she fell silent at the sight of the unfamiliar man beside Wen Qi.

“Cousin Feiran, come back to the residence with us,” Su Mu said warmly, seizing Ji Changge’s arm. “It’s been so long since we caught up.”

“Very well,” Ji Changge replied, subtly withdrawing his arm.

Wen Qi watched, the corners of her mouth lifting ever so slightly. Ji Feiran.