Qin Wen arrived on a Thursday.
He came in a carriage so polished it reflected sunlight like a mirror, pulled by two white horses with silver bridles. A small entourage followed him. Servants carrying luggage, a personal attendant with a jade box of writing supplies, and a scholar's assistant who looked like he hadn't slept in weeks.
Lan Yue watched from the second floor window of the East Pavilion, her arms crossed, her jaw tight.
He looked exactly like she remembered from the novel's descriptions. Tall. Elegant. A face so handsome it should have been illegal. His robes were pale blue silk, perfectly tailored, not a single crease. His dark hair was tied back with a white jade crown. And that fan. That stupid jade fan that he carried everywhere, opening and closing it with the lazy confidence of a man who believed the world existed for his entertainment.
"He looks like a painting," Chen Mei whispered beside her, peering over the windowsill.
