Xiao of the West

Warm yellow light fell across the wooden table, softening even the rain streaks beyond the glass window. Theodore von Hohenzollern rested his elbow on the windowsill, his fingertips brushing the warm mug, his gaze settling on the flowering tree outside. Tiny white petals adorned its branches, dampened by the sparse drizzle. Now and then, one or two trembled loose and drifted down like clouds crumbled by the wind. Suddenly, a petal fell a little lower, and a hand swiftly reached out from beside the window. Ye Yangzhi stood beneath the tree, gently catching the raindrop-speckled petal with her fingertips. Her finger brushed its soft, damp edge. She looked up at the branches still shedding petals, and as her lips curved into a smile, a faint arc appeared first at the corners of her eyes. The drizzle dampened the tips of her hair, and light filtering through the clouds shone in her eyes. Even the fingers that caught the petal seemed to soften. Theodore von Hohenzollern's fingers paused around his mug.