Only Lan Zhan and Wei Ying were left waiting now. Lan Qiren and Lan Huan had gone inside a few minutes ago, and the beautiful man had left, telling them they could enter when the door opened by itself.
"Are you nervous, Lan Zhan?" Wei Ying pulls him closer to ask.
"Not nervous, anticipatory." Lan Zhan looks serious now.
"I have her favourite poem memorised," Wei Ying admits, "though some parts are a little sketchy."
"Whatever happens, do not let go of my hand," Lan Zhan warns him.
"Okay, Lan Er-Gege, I won't," and then Wei Ying giggles after seeing the look on his face.
The white door suddenly swings open and there's a burst of sweet perfume in the air. Wei Ying grabs Lan Zhan's hand and they enter slowly, looking around.
The garden is beautiful and just as Wei Ying remembers it. There are rose trees of many colours, each one more stunning than the next. Brilliant red roses with soft velvety petals, orange fiery flowers with pink tips, yellow blooms with red tinged petals as if someone had taken the trouble to dip each flower in vermillion powder. There were blazing golden dandelions, purple pansies and different shades of lilacs. The path wound around the flower beds and into a grove of blossom trees. Here, the scent was heavenly, mouthwatering and fresh.
Wei Ying first greets all the flowers, giving them cute names and saying a few kind words. Then, he began chanting, his quick eyes darting here and there, alert and watchful.
"Hello again, Huarong Yuemao, this is for you because you once told me it reminded you of him, the one you remember and want to see again. I want to be your love forever, without break or decay, when the hills are all flat, the rivers all dry, when it thunders in winter and when it snows in summer, when heaven and earth mingle, not till then will I part from you.
"You said this one is your favourite!" He calls out, stopping in the clearing in front of them.
"How do you know my name?" A voice suddenly says.
Lan Zhan pulls Wei Ying back so he can stand just in front of him.
Right there, a maiden has appeared, pale and tall, with a piece of white silk chiffon covering her mouth. It moves with her breath as she stares at them, and even from this distance, it is clear she is not human. She is a ghost spirit.
Her robes are layers and layers of pure white chiffon and organza, fluttering in the slight breeze. The top layer has intricate golden thread embroidery depicting all her favourite flowers as they spread across her robe, vines of jasmine trailing up her arms. She is so beautiful that the word feels inadequate, incapable of describing her gorgeous features. Her eyes twinkle hazel green and vivid, wild with confusion as she stares back, guarded.
Her hair is wavy and wound up into braids, secured by gold and pearl ornaments, and a single pink peony bobs its head as she moves forward, the stalk woven deeply in her tresses..
"How do you know my name?" She demands again, her red lips a slash of hidden colour on her face, the curve of a bloodied knife bent in amusement. "And how do you know my favourite poem? You are mere children!"
"Aha, that's a little bit complicated," Wei Ying hedges anxiously. "We can only tell you if you promise not to get angry and kick us out without a warning."
"That depends on you. What if you irritate me? I don't like children." She purses her lips.
"We're not exactly children, we only look like this," Wei Ying explains.
"Well then, this might be a conversation we don't want to be sober for," she suddenly decides and then claps her hands.
Wei Ying is about to agree when a table suddenly appears in front of them, and three beautiful white chairs, all carved into the shape of specific flowers. One is a peony, another a lotus and the third, a gentian flower.
