Chapter Six: The Willow Moon Festival

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The tavern, usually bustling with business, had seen its customers dwindle by more than half these past few days. Xiao Jiu, bored out of his mind, yawned as he idly tapped the table, while Wang Jiu stood quietly behind the counter, absently working the abacus. The crisp click-clack of the beads filled the air as Xiao Jiu, lulled into a stupor, propped his face on his hand and dozed off. The soft rhythm of his breathing rose and fell. Wang Jiu smiled and shook his head, and when another person entered—the footsteps unmistakably belonged to Tao Hong—he raised a finger to his lips, signaling her to keep quiet, allowing Xiao Jiu to nap undisturbed.

Tao Hong shot a sidelong look at Xiao Jiu, whose mouth hung slightly open, perilously close to drooling, and her face showed clear disdain. She could never understand why Brother Wang Jiu was always so indulgent with this good-for-nothing young master. Still, she lifted the redwood food box she had brought and, in a gentle tone, said, “Brother Wang Jiu, I’ve brought you something different this time.” Her eyes brimmed with anticipation, a subtle gleam flickering within, and she gripped the box a little tighter, a faint flush rising to her cheeks as she gazed at Wang Jiu, afraid to disturb this picture-perfect figure before her.

Wang Jiu received the box with his usual tranquil smile and fetched a bottle of coarse grain wine from behind the counter, teasing, “You’re of age this year too. All the other girls in town are preparing. Aren’t you anxious at all?”

Tao Hong feigned a delicate stomp, pouting, “Brother Wang Jiu, you’ve become as bad as my father, teasing me like this.” Though she spoke thus, her heart pounded faster and her palms grew slick with nervous sweat. The other girls in town were all gentle and demure, perfect little beauties, while she had grown up with her father, a bit more like a boy herself. She had never imagined any young man would fancy her, but the one she liked, the one she had fallen for at first sight, was none other than Brother Wang Jiu.

When the wind swept through the town, catkins drifted like snow—white, soft, though unlike snow, they never melted, casting their own unique beauty. Should they settle in a girl’s hair, they lent her an extra touch of charm and liveliness.

This was the season for it: in Qinghe Town, every year a festival was held exclusively for young men and women—the Willow Moon Festival, also called the “Lingering Moon” Festival, in hopes of keeping hold of the red thread cast by the Old Man under the Moon, and thus securing a happy union.

At the Willow Moon Festival, girls of age spent days, sometimes half a month, painstakingly adorning themselves, hoping to meet someone they fancied. Regardless of gender, upon finding someone they liked, they would present a token woven from willow branches to that person.

Should the affection be mutual, they would proceed to the temple of the Old Man under the Moon, pray for blessings, string their matching amulets with red thread, and toss them onto the ancient tree within the temple—a gesture said to earn the Old Man’s blessing upon their bond.

Wang Jiu smiled at Tao Hong, who bit her lip, her ears blushing scarlet, before she snatched the wine jug and, mortified, fled outside. Once she left, the smile faded from Wang Jiu’s lips. “Still sleeping?”

Xiao Jiu, who had been feigning sleep, had at some point opened his eyes, now narrowed as he shamelessly eavesdropped. At Wang Jiu’s words, he stretched lazily, dropping the pretense. He sauntered over to the counter and scoffed, “Do you enjoy keeping girls guessing like that?” His tone bore the knowing air of a seasoned flirt.

Wang Jiu opened the food box, immediately drawing Xiao Jiu’s attention. Wang Jiu offered him a piece of cake, asking, “Want some?”

Xiao Jiu nodded eagerly. Wang Jiu slid the box toward him and murmured, “Then keep your mouth shut.”

Xiao Jiu made a zipping motion across his lips, not caring whether Wang Jiu saw it or not, then sat down to eat. The cakes were no less delicious than those at the manor; as the saying goes, one’s hand is tied when receiving another’s favor. Wang Jiu often shared treats with him, and Xiao Jiu, for all his bluster, felt embarrassed to make a fuss. As for his mission—well, he’d think of another way, set it aside for now, and bide his time.

Xiao Jiu’s eyes narrowed in satisfaction, cheeks bulging, the picture of contentment. It had been so long since he’d practiced swordplay that he worried he was getting soft around the waist. He couldn’t help but admire his father—this Wang Jiu was so difficult to win over. No wonder his father trusted him with such a demanding task; it was only right that such a challenge fall to him.

Listening to Xiao Jiu’s happy munching, Wang Jiu’s smile returned—yet this time, it was fleeting, a blossom that opened and closed in an instant. Even his usually dull eyes seemed to gleam with a faint light, enough to make an onlooker catch their breath and pause to savor this perfect moment.

Such a lovely smile, yet wasted on a boy who could only wolf down his food, oblivious to beauty. Wang Jiu paid that no mind, his gaze lingering, longing and tender, on Xiao Jiu—on the flickering, warm candlelight that seemed to gather around him.

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The streets remained quiet for only a few days before bursting into life. The tavern’s entrance bustled with the coming and going of throngs of people.

Xiao Jiu and Wang Jiu were busy from dawn till dusk, only stopping as evening fell. Xiao Jiu collapsed face-first onto the table, muttering, “I can’t. I really can’t go on, I’m exhausted, truly about to die here. This is just too much.”

Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Xiao Jiu turned his head to see someone descending slowly from above. Gone was the plain work attire, replaced by a finely patterned, pale gray robe. Wang Jiu’s ink-black hair, cascading like a waterfall, was simply tied back, and though the clothing was subdued, it did not make Wang Jiu seem old; instead, a certain ethereal grace, aged like fine wine, seemed to steep his every movement, now fully revealed.

Wang Jiu wore his customary gentle smile, yet this time there was an unspoken distance, as though he stood in another world. Xiao Jiu’s heart skipped a beat; his gaze lingered on Wang Jiu’s sculpted features, finally settling on those pale, delicate lips.

He found it almost impossible to look away, dazed as those lips drew closer, moving as if to speak, though Xiao Jiu heard nothing. In that moment, his mind could hold only a single thought: those faintly colored lips looked terribly inviting.

Wang Jiu finished speaking, and when no reply came, reached out to gently touch Xiao Jiu’s flushed cheek, asking, “Your face is so hot. Are you feeling unwell?”

Snapped awake by the words, Xiao Jiu batted Wang Jiu’s hand away. Instantly, Wang Jiu’s hand turned red. Xiao Jiu recoiled several steps and landed heavily on the floor. Wang Jiu took a half-step forward, intending to help him up, but Xiao Jiu cried out in alarm, “Don’t touch me!”

That single shout left Wang Jiu frozen in place. His smile faded as the pain from Xiao Jiu’s slap burned in his hand, which he quickly hid in his sleeve, clenching it behind his back. A fresh stab of pain pricked his chest, draining the color from his already pale lips. Pressing them together, he forced a calm tone, “You’d better change your clothes, too. Tonight’s the grand festival in Qinghe Town—it’ll be lively, and it’d be a shame to miss it.”

Even Xiao Jiu, dense as he was, could sense something was amiss. He brushed past Wang Jiu in silence and hurried upstairs to change.

Hearing the hurried footsteps behind him, Wang Jiu managed a bitter smile. Had he asked for too much, after all?

In his room, Xiao Jiu slapped his cheeks a few times and took several deep breaths. Why was his whole body heating up? No, no, he couldn’t let that old fox Wang Jiu bewitch him. Only when he felt the flush subside did he change clothes and leave the room.

When he returned downstairs, he saw a young woman dressed in pale pink, radiant with laughter and charm, holding Wang Jiu’s sleeve. The two of them, chatting and smiling, looked every bit the perfect pair.

The girl was none other than Tao Hong, now beautifully dressed in bright colors, her face lightly made-up, making her even more alluring than usual. Yet to Xiao Jiu, something about the sight was deeply unsettling.

He couldn’t help but snipe, “Well, aren’t you dressed up today! Who are you hoping to charm—some young master, perhaps?”

Tao Hong couldn’t even be bothered to glance at him, but shot back, “At least I could charm someone. You? All you know is how to eat, all day long. Who could ever like you, huh, Brother Wang Jiu?”

As Tao Hong tossed the question to Wang Jiu, Xiao Jiu’s gaze followed, stealing another quick glance at those pale lips. For some reason, he found himself wanting to hear Wang Jiu’s answer, though he couldn’t have said why.

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Wang Jiu merely smiled without a word. Tao Hong took it as tacit approval, lifting her chin triumphantly at Xiao Jiu before turning to Wang Jiu and saying, “Brother Wang Jiu, let’s go! Let’s not bother with that idiot.”

Wang Jiu and Tao Hong left the tavern and, arm in arm, were soon swallowed up by the throng on the street. Annoyed, Xiao Jiu scratched his head and hurried after them.

On the street, apart from Xiao Jiu, almost everyone strolled in pairs, or else carried willow-weavings, glancing about expectantly. Xiao Jiu kept a close watch on Wang Jiu and Tao Hong ahead, unaware of the scowl twisting his face. He failed to notice how, today, many girls looked his way, ready to toss him their willow tokens, only to be scared off by his stormy expression.

Tao Hong, annoyed that Xiao Jiu was still tagging along, threw him a glare before turning to Wang Jiu with a smile. “Brother Wang Jiu, look—that stall is selling those cakes I always bring you. They’re delicious. Let’s have a look!”

Wang Jiu nodded, and Tao Hong tugged him toward the stall. Halfway there, Xiao Jiu was accosted by a rather plump girl. “Oh, young sir, my feelings are sincere! Won’t you accept me?”

Xiao Jiu, unable to be rough with a girl, could only reply coldly, “Get lost.”

Unfazed, the girl clung tighter to his arm. “Don’t be shy! My father is a wealthy man here in Qinghe. You’ll never want for anything if you marry me. Just say yes!”

Their exchange drew the attention of passersby, who paused to watch, casting sympathetic glances at Xiao Jiu. He was strikingly handsome, while the girl was very much the opposite. She had not two, but three chins, and a prominent black mole with a few hairs on her face only served to make her stand out more. For a woman to be so shameless—well, words failed the onlookers.

A vein throbbed on Xiao Jiu’s forehead. Meanwhile, Wang Jiu and Tao Hong had long vanished into the crowd. Just as Xiao Jiu was about to pry the girl off, a group of servant girls and boys rushed over to drag her away. One maid scolded, “Miss, I told you—show some restraint! If you don’t, no one will want you!”

The girl, undeterred, reached her hand out to Xiao Jiu, tears brimming in her eyes. “No! He’s the love of my life! I’ll never let go!”

The servants struggled to pull her away, while the maid muttered, “Miss, how many people have you called the love of your life now? At least dozens, right? Could you at least try to remember—restraint, restraint! Do you understand?”

Xiao Jiu instinctively brushed off the part of his arm she had grabbed and quickened his pace in the direction Wang Jiu and Tao Hong had gone.

Searching all around to no avail, Xiao Jiu suddenly heard Tao Hong’s voice. He followed it to the riverside, where Wang Jiu and Tao Hong stood together. On instinct, he hid himself behind a willow tree.