In the spring of Jianye Year Sixteen, Yanjin fell. In her panic, Wen Si stumbled in front of Zhao Huaizhou's horse.
He should have ridden straight past without even glancing at her, but for some reason, he instinctively tightened the reins.
The horse suddenly reared, neighing loudly. He happened to catch a glimpse of Wen Si's face...
Beneath the horse's hooves, she gazed up at him timidly, tears in her eyes. A few loose strands fluttered by her temple, unable to hide her fair, delicate face.
Later, whenever Zhao Huaizhou thought back on it, he couldn't help sneering: He should have let the horse trample her back then!
But when Wen Si really did point her sword at him, he couldn't help thinking: She's so delicate. I hope she doesn't lose her grip and hurt herself.
*
"The people of Yu believe in fate. Their horoscopes are read as soon as they're born. Weddings and funerals, great matters and small, all require an auspicious time," Wen Si said, slowly wiping the dagger in her hand. Her lovely eyes reflected on its blade as she tilted her head and smiled. "But I, of all people, don't believe in it."
"People say Luoyang's flowers are as lovely as brocade, yet I arrived and found no spring."
Then I'll carve out a spring with my own hands.
Theme: Beauties are captivating, but so is the realm.
