Light.
A warm, pure, golden radiance—devoid of all aggression—slowly bloomed from the depths of boundless darkness, defying every law of perception.
Harp notes.
Clear, ethereal, like mountain stream water washing over smooth stones. Thread by slender thread, they pierced the dead silence of his drowning, pulling his fading sense of hearing back from the brink.
The scent of flowers.
An indescribable fragrance, crisp yet sweet, condensed with the very essence of spring's vitality. It seeped into his numb senses.
A drop of water.
Finally, a touch—cold, pure, like the first dewdrop clinging to a petal at dawn—landed gently upon his lips, bringing with it the delicate tremor and profound nourishment of awakening.
The harp notes faded. The fragrance dispersed. The sensation of drowning receded like a tide.
"Lord Mo! You're awake!"
A voice, clear as a bell and bright with unconcealed joy, rang in his ears.
Mo Bai struggled to lift his eyelids. His blurred vision slowly sharpened.
"Don't move yet! You're still weak!" The voice drew nearer, brimming with concern.
He turned his head.
An extraordinarily delicate face came into focus: porcelain skin, large honey-colored eyes wide with pure worry, a straight nose, lips the shade of cherry blossoms.
Mo Bai's breath hitched.
The girl in green?
But he sobered in the next instant. Hair color, bearing, the look in her eyes… all were completely different. Only a fleeting similarity in silhouette had tricked his drowsy, confused mind.
"Ah! I forgot to introduce myself!"
The girl suddenly remembered, offered a sweet smile, and gave a slight bow. "I'm Starlaine! Your personal healer! It's wonderful to meet you!"
Her tone was light, soft, carrying a unique, melodic lilt.
"Starlaine…" Mo Bai's voice was terribly hoarse. "How long was I out?"
"Ten full epoch-days!" Starlaine's eyes widened dramatically. She patted her chest, a look of lingering fear on her face. "When they brought you in, you had no consciousness at all! I tried everything, but there was no response. I… I thought I really couldn't save you this time!"
She spoke vividly, her expressions lively, even a little theatrical. Her overflowing energy made the pure white of her healer's robes seem to glow.
Mo Bai looked at her flushed cheeks and shining eyes, and the corner of his mouth twitched almost imperceptibly.
"Hm? My lord, you smiled?" Starlaine caught it instantly, blinked, then blushed an even deeper crimson. She hastily stepped back, clasping her hands. "Sorry, sorry! I talk too much when I'm excited! How rude of me!"
Her flustered demeanor was like that of a small animal that had just gotten into trouble.
"…It's fine." Mo Bai's voice softened, almost without him realizing it. "You… woke me?"
"I did!" Starlaine grew earnest when speaking of her craft, though her lively spirit was unmistakable. She waved her right hand in a graceful arc—
Hum…
A harp, flowing with warm golden light, materialized in the air beside the sickbed. Its form was ancient, its strings seemingly woven from light itself. It trembled slightly, emitting soothing waves of energy.
"This is my partner, the Aurora Cantabile," Starlaine said, her gaze tender as she looked at the harp.
Mo Bai's eyes fell upon the instrument, then were drawn back to the girl beside it.
Now, with a calmer mind and in the clear light, he truly saw her.
Long, golden hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, making her skin appear as flawless as suet jade. A petite face, a delicate chin. Most captivating were her large, honey-colored eyes—clear enough to see straight to the bottom, filled with a pure, untainted joy.
She wore a golden, knee-length dress, with a cluster of lifelike larkspurs embroidered in golden thread upon her left chest. A black-and-gold belt cinched her slender waist. Below the skirt, her legs were sheathed in white stockings, disappearing into pristine, short white boots.
Holy, yet brimming with youthful spirit.
She stood beside the golden harp, wrapped in its soft radiance, like a healing elf stepped out of legend—like suddenly stumbling upon a dewy sprout in the depths of a bitter winter.
"The harp…" he heard his own rough voice say. "I heard it while I was out… it was beautiful."
"Eh?!" Starlaine's eyes lit up instantly, like stars being kindled. She subconsciously leaned a little closer, her honey-colored gaze fixing on Mo Bai, bursting with the surprise of finding a kindred spirit. "You… you liked the canon? It's my best piece! It seems I chose well!"
Her joy was so direct, so infectious. It was like a warm stone tossed into the frozen lake of Mo Bai's heart, sending out tiny, rippling waves.
Rarely for him, he offered a few more words, his tone gentler than he intended: "More than the harp. There was a unique floral scent… and something as clear as morning dew."
He spoke slowly, as if carefully recalling the sensations.
"The scent is from the larkspur!" Starlaine immediately tapped the golden embroidery on her chest, her tone lifting with pride. "A special strain I picked just this morning. Its fragrance soothes the soul and guides it home! As for the dew…"
Her voice trailed off unexpectedly, slowing. As if belatedly realizing the implication, a bright crimson flush spread across her pale cheeks at a visible pace, creeping all the way to the tips of her ears. She bit her lip, her eyelashes fluttering rapidly, her gaze darting about. She mumbled, her voice barely audible:
"That… that was… a Maiden's First Kiss…!"
Mo Bai's gaze froze for a second.
"I-I… it was an emergency!" Starlaine's voice rose slightly, still stammering, her face burning. "All the standard treatments failed! The ancient, highest-tier 'Life Resonance' ritual in the archives… it requires a pure, vital 'primal medium' to form the connection… I-I didn't overthink it! I just had to save you! S-So! Anyway!"
She squeezed her eyes shut, as if throwing all caution to the wind, and spoke in a rush: "It was strictly a component of a serious medical procedure! Please don't misunderstand! Please, don't read anything into it!"
The last few words were as light as feathers. Having spoken, she kept her eyes tightly closed, her eyelashes trembling nervously, holding her breath.
The ward was so quiet one could hear a pin drop.
Mo Bai was thoroughly stunned.
First kiss? A life-saving medium?
Even with his steady mind and his experiences brushing against death, he was jolted by the blunt, startling explanation. He looked at the maiden before him—eyes shut, blushing fiercely, body slightly stiff—and felt, for the first time in his life, a wave of utterly helpless and subtle bewilderment.
"…I see." After a long moment, he managed to squeeze out that single syllable, stiffly turning his gaze to the ceiling.
"L-Lord Mo!" She jumped back as if scalded, her words tangling. "Y-You should rest now! The Mirror God summons me! I must go to The Crossing… to offer the Devotional Fire—"
Before she could finish, not daring to look at Mo Bai again, she turned and stumbled toward the door, her movements uncharacteristically clumsy. Her long golden hair traced a messy arc in the air. The door clicked shut behind her.
The ward settled into silence once more. Only the Aurora Cantabile remained, floating in place, its light warm and steady.
He sat up fully and walked to the silently hovering harp. Its form glowed with a constant, gentle radiance. He raised a hand to his simply tied hair and retrieved an object: a short, black, vertical flute, about three inches long, cool to the touch. A tiny, natural green mark at its end was almost indistinguishable from the black unless examined closely.
It was called Echo of Solitude—a humble heirloom of the Celestial Mechanism Pavilion. It resonated with specific mnemonic frequencies, capable of transmitting extremely brief thoughts and coordinates.
He hung the flute gently on an inconspicuous part of the harp's frame. Then, holding his fingers as if holding a brush, he drew in the empty air. Where his fingertips passed, inky streamers condensed into sharp, potent characters:
If in danger, sound it. I will come.
The characters hovered for a moment, then quietly seeped into the harp's faint glow and vanished.
Stepping out of the Serenity Courtyard, the setting sun draped the Aethereal Metropolis of Myriad Forms in a veil of warm, golden light.
Mo Bai walked along the main thoroughfare paved with dark golden stone slabs. Noise and bizarre sights crashed into his senses at once.
The crowd flowed like a turbulent river, their attire bizarre and varied. A burly man clad in animal skins, carrying a stone axe, brushed shoulders with a clerk in a suit clutching a glowing data-slate. Their figures overlapped but did not interact, each walking their own predetermined path. Not far off, a woman in palace robes wept into her hands. Her crystalline teardrops fell straight through the head of a child below, happily licking a candied hawthorn skewer, vanishing into the void without a trace.