FBC – Chapter 267 The Seventh Day of the Seventh Month

The Qixi Festival.

In the imperial capital of Bianjing, Daliang, stalls selling mohele dolls lined the streets outside the East Song Gate of Panlou Street, the Xiliang Gate of the prefecture, the North Gate, and the South Suzaku Gate.

These little wooden dolls were adorned with red gauze and green cages, decorated with gold beads, ivory, and jade, and often placed within colorfully painted stands.

The prices ranged from low to high—those decorated with gold, pearls, ivory, or jade could cost several thousand coins a pair.

On this day, no matter if one was within the imperial palace, a noble household, or among the common folk, everyone would buy a pair of dolls to gift their beloved during the Qixi Festival.

In past years, Juzhou and the southern borderlands had been ravaged by endless war and chaos. People barely survived—who would have the heart to celebrate Qixi?

But this year was different.

For the first time in decades, Juzhou welcomed a peaceful and lively Qixi Festival.

Zhao Luoxuan led the officials in charge of ceremonies and rituals at the prefecture office. Following the festive arrangements of Bianjing, she organized a splendid celebration for Juzhou’s Qixi Festival.

There were games, food, and stalls of every kind—everything one could imagine.

Merchants from all regions came and went, and streams of people in luxurious robes filled the streets. The city was bursting with life.

To make the day even more festive, the Mu family and the Princess’s residence each contributed a large sum of silver, distributing five hundred coins per person throughout every household, ensuring everyone could enjoy the festival.

The women of the Benevolence Home and the Rose Courtyard worked together to sew new skirts for all the unmarried registered girls in the city—styles modeled after the latest Bianjing fashions.

Each child also received a new set of clothes, sending joy rippling through the city.

On this day, the girls wearing their new ruqun (blouse-and-skirt ensembles) each carried a twin-lotus lantern. As they walked along the streets, if they met a man they fancied, they could gift him the lantern to express their affection.

Men, too, could purchase lanterns to give to the girls they admired.

Gu Hua and her companions strolled leisurely down the liveliest street. On both sides rose new buildings—among them, a restaurant and a teahouse owned by the Pei family.

Many new shops had opened, each setting up Qiqiao (skill-testing) tables at their doors. Boys gathered to recite poetry while girls showed off their needlework.

Zhao Luoxuan and Zhou Zhilan each held one of Gu Hua’s arms.

The three chatted happily as they walked, but as they went further, the laughter faded, and silence filled the space between them.

Gu Hua glanced left and right—both girls’ eyes were slightly red.

Noticing her gaze, they quickly forced smiles and resumed chatting to hide their melancholy.

But Gu Hua felt the same sorrow herself.

Through all that she and Mu Junyan had been through, they had never once spent the Qixi Festival together.

Zhou Zhilan sniffled. “Today, I want to find a fine gentleman for myself.”

Zhao Luoxuan grinned. “Good! I’ll help you look.”

Gu Hua shot Zhou Zhilan a mock glare. “Didn’t we agree I’d organize a martial arts competition for your suitors in a few days?”

Zhao Luoxuan nearly jumped in excitement. “Ah? A martial contest for marriage? That sounds thrilling! So much fun!”

Zhou Zhilan’s cheeks turned red. “Didn’t you say we’d wait until the letter arrives?”

Gu Hua’s tone was perfectly serious. “The letter was sent by pigeon long ago. I wrote it myself—told him that, to set his mind at ease, I’d personally find a worthy and admirable husband for his dear sister, so we’re organizing a martial contest to choose the best.”

Zhou Zhilan’s eyes widened. “A carrier pigeon? Then it must’ve reached him in ten days!”

“By now, yes. I just don’t know if he’ll reply.”

Zhou Zhilan bit her lip, not speaking.

Gu Hua knew what she was thinking.

As long as Mu Junyan didn’t return, Zhou Chunyu couldn’t come back either.

But if he still cared for Zhilan, he could always write back. It was up to him.

“Juzhou has many fine warriors,” Zhao Luoxuan said cheerfully, unaware of the undertones in their words. “Sister Zhilan, I’m sure you’ll find a good man.”

Zhou Zhilan smiled faintly. “Thank you, Princess. I’ll take your kind words to heart.”

Gu Hua smiled at that, then turned her gaze to Zhao Luoxuan.

Feeling self-conscious under the look, Zhao Luoxuan touched her cheek. “What? Is there something on my face?”

Zhilan, seizing the chance for payback after being teased earlier, said slyly, “Are you truly not planning to remarry? You’ve just come of age—can you stay a widow all your life?”

Zhao Luoxuan snorted. “Of course I can. If I can’t marry someone I love, I’d rather not marry at all.”

All three burst into laughter.

Then, a series of high-pitched, flirtatious voices filled the air—

“Wow, amazing! You hit it! Quick, give it to me!”

“Langjun, Langjun! I want one too, help me shoot one!”

“Langjun, me too!”

“Me too!”

The commotion drew everyone’s attention.

They turned to see a two-story lantern tower—lanterns hung all the way up, the higher and more exquisite, the more expensive.

For ten coins, one could shoot five arrows. The rule was simple: shoot the lantern you liked.

Usually, young men would try to shoot down the lanterns their favorite girls wanted, hoping to win a smile in return.

But the challenge was tricky: one had to hit the thin string holding a numbered tag beneath the lantern to claim it.

Even sharpshooters from the Mu Army couldn’t guarantee a hit every time.

Yet now, a tall man surrounded by a crowd of women was hitting every target.

Five arrows, five perfect shots—each earning a delighted squeal from another girl.

The other men nearby looked as though they wanted to grind their teeth into dust.

The stall owner’s face darkened—he was losing heavily tonight—but rules were rules, and a master archer couldn’t be stopped.

Zhao Luoxuan, who had just started learning archery, and Zhou Zhilan, an excellent archer herself, both brightened. Gu Hua, who’d practiced for half a year, also showed interest.

Gu Hua looked at the two. “Shall we go take a look?”

“Sure,” they said together.

Dong Hua and Chiyu discreetly cleared a path through the crowd, allowing the three to move to the front.

Only then did they see the man clearly.

He was indeed strikingly handsome—

Eight chi tall, with a straight, noble posture like a jade tree in the wind.

His sideburns were sharp as if carved by a blade, his brows like inked strokes, his complexion fair and smooth, his lips crimson as if painted.

If not for the skillful archery, one might have mistaken him for a refined scholar.

Zhao Luoxuan tilted her head. “I don’t think I’ve seen him before.”

Zhou Zhilan nodded. “Me neither.”

Gu Hua was still studying him when he suddenly looked straight at her. Their eyes met, and for a moment, both froze.

There was warmth in his gentle smile—but something deep and unfathomable beneath it.

Gu Hua quickly looked away, stealing one last glance at his attire.

“Let’s go.”

She took the two girls by the hand and turned to leave.

The archer’s gaze followed her retreating figure for a long moment before he finally turned back, smiling, to continue shooting lanterns for the clamoring women.

“What’s wrong?” Zhou Zhilan asked, noticing Gu Hua’s unsettled expression.

Zhao Luoxuan looked puzzled.

Once they were out of the crowd, Gu Hua lowered her voice. “He looks familiar.”

“Huh?”

Both Zhilan and Luoxuan frowned, trying to recall.

“I don’t remember him at all.”

Gu Hua thought for a while. She couldn’t place him either—but something about him felt oddly familiar.

“Though I can’t recall where, he’s definitely not from Daliang. Did you notice the short curved blade at his waist? That’s a scimitar—and the gem inlay on the sheath is in the style of the Dali Kingdom.”

Zhao Luoxuan’s eyes widened. “Ah, so he’s from Dali?”

Zhilan nodded. “Not surprising. The men of Dali are usually fair and delicate-looking.”

Gu Hua continued, “He’s not an ordinary man either. Look at his clothes and the accessories at his waist—those are things only the highest-ranking nobles of Dali would wear.”

Having studied the customs and ranks of both nations, Gu Hua could recognize such distinctions instantly.

Although Dali’s court etiquette wasn’t as complicated as Daliang’s, they were meticulous about dress. Waist ornaments and pendants were strictly ranked.

Zhou Zhilan glanced back quickly, then turned forward again. “He doesn’t seem to have many attendants—only one or two. Though our nations are on friendly terms now, trade hasn’t formally opened yet. For a Dali noble to come to Juzhou with so few guards—he’s quite bold.”

Gu Hua stopped walking and looked at Chiyu, giving a slight tilt of her head.

Chiyu immediately understood, and with a glance toward one of the hidden guards in the shadows, sent him off silently.

The man turned and melted into the crowd, following the mysterious archer.