A Record of Flowers and Fleeting Lives

Through the hazy drizzle, the Drunken Blossom Pavilion appeared and vanished amid the misty water vapor, like a fairyland in an ink painting. The Drunken Blossom Pavilion, the most famous pleasure house in the capital, was welcoming a very special guest that day.

Su Yao, the pavilion’s top courtesan, wore a veil of light gauze and seemed like a fairy appearing and disappearing in the clouds. Her eyes were like clear springs, sparkling with lively light. Her brows resembled distant mountains washed in green, and her lips were like cherry blossoms touched with rouge. Every gesture radiated grace. Today, she would receive a mysterious guest: the Crown Prince himself.

In a private room on the pavilion’s second floor, sandalwood incense curled through the air as a melody floated from the strings. Su Yao cradled her pipa and plucked it with slender fingers. The pleasing notes flowed through the room like a winding stream. “Your Highness, I am Su Yao. Please accept this song, Spring River, Flower, Moon, and Night, as a small token of my regard.” Her voice was clear and sweet, like an oriole emerging from its valley.

The Crown Prince, Mo Chen, wore a moon-white brocade robe. He sat straight as a pine, his handsome face like that of an immortal descended to earth, and his deep eyes seemed able to see through everything. He sat quietly, his gaze resting on Su Yao, and gave a slight nod. “Miss Su’s reputation for musical talent is well deserved.”

When the song ended, Su Yao set down her pipa and lifted the teacup from the table, taking a small sip. The fragrance of tea filled the room. “Thank you for your praise, Your Highness. I know only a little.” Her words were modest and polite, yet carried a faint hint of distance.

Mo Chen gazed at Su Yao, and an unfamiliar feeling stirred in his heart.