In late spring in Chang'an City, willow catkins drifted like snow. I stood before the bronze mirror, my fingertips lightly brushing over a pale blue ruqun, the twin-lotus embroidery catching a soft luster in the candlelight. I had prepared this outfit specially for today, simply because he once said he loved pale blue best, elegant and delicate like a spring sky.
Fastening the white magnolia hairpin he had given me into my bun, the figure in the mirror beamed with bright eyes and a subtle touch of shyness and anticipation. Thinking of the years since we first met, my heart swelled with sweetness. Together we had listened to storytellers on the streets of Chang'an, admired the lotus blossoms by Qujiang Pond, and composed poems and painted under Mount Zhongnan. He always told me that we were the most kindred of spirits, rare and true confidants in this mortal world.
With a heart fluttering with nervous anticipation, I arrived at the appointed teahouse. He was already sitting by the window, draped in a moon-white robe, his posture as upright as a pine. Seeing me walk over, he smiled and stood up to greet me, though his gaze paused slightly the moment it landed on my pale blue ruqun and the hairpin.
Chapter 231