Let us for a short time leave Evernight Waterfalls and see what is happening in the Emperor's Imperial City.
One would be in reverie and amazed to see the magnificent palaces, splendid halls, grand towers, wonderful pavilions and beautiful belvederes, well-tended gardens, ponds and parks; and the exquisite decorations on the roofs, eaves, walls, railings, and pillars.
But one would also feel like a mouse scurrying in a labyrinth for the many miles of alleys and paved roads, the gates, the inner and outer courtyards, the threshold courtyards were all surrounded with huge walls.
And oftentimes one needed a horse or a sedan chair to travel to their destination. Yes, such was the scale of the imperial grounds, a Daedalian city belonging to the realms of fancy, truly befitting the name of the Emperor's Imperial City.
Today Emika had risen from her bed at the first rays of light, though her head still ached miserably. Since the death of her loved ones she was trapped within nightmares, alternately crying and dozing, and then awakening to wish desperately for the tormented memories to fade away.
She slid open the lattice shutters and a fresh breeze blew in, causing her loose robe to flutter. She ruffled her hair and gazed out at the autumnal blooms, a riot of gold and pinks and softest berries, which inspired a long morning walk.
She didn't know how long she meandered for. But so consumed was her mind, she hadn't noticed the journey that her weary footsteps made. She had strayed a long way from her pavilion following the majestic walls adorned with vermillion, yellow, green and other hues of painted beasts, birds and flora. And then, she suddenly found herself surrounded by unwelcome but familiar wrinkled walls cloaked in a sullen shade of grey.
A sudden cold seized her, she could not go on.
The road ahead stricken with stubborn potholes led to a gate and stone walls fighting against the inclemency of rain and wind. These high gates and walls either protected or held captive a gloomy palace compound.
Why was she standing here?
Her heart was sorely troubled.
Emika looked steadfastly at the gate, her gaze seemed to pierce through those thick and tall wooden doors and wandered inside the courtyard. She was curious to know if someone had watered the potted flowers and pruned the willow-pear tree. And what about his parrot? Was their feathered friend living well in a new home, or…was he still there, forgotten and starved?
She took two steps forward but stopped. She shook her head. 'Are you going mad?' her mind screamed. 'Why should I care about anything related to him?'
Emika exhaled heavily as her memories, fresh and stale at the same time, unrolled in her head. How she longed to go back and take a different path so that the scene where they chanced to meet would be erased. But that was impossible. There was no way back.
She didn't know that this young man would fill such a big space in her life and bring upon a calamity absolutely immeasurable.
He, the man who had set aflame her world and crushed her like an avalanche.
He, the only person she had ever hated.
She was inert, sobbing in a low voice with flowing tears.
The very first time she saw him... She was fifteen…
Emika stood there numbly as time reversed to eight years ago, to the day she glimpsed the man she now wished dead...
*** ***
…She and her family had an audience with Empress Yū Miko. The Empress had selected Emika to be the wife of her son Taizong, she'd said, because she needed a family they could trust implicitly to support the future Crown Prince. And she'd hope General Hishoku would consider the union favourably.
After the tea ceremony, they followed the Empress for an extensive tour of the splendours of the Park of Delighftul Vision displaying a wide selection of exotic trees, plants and flowers, unseen before; and imported from a faraway land two oceans away and whose name was such a tongue twister she had forgotten it.
Because of the large number of Her Majesty's retinue, Emika went unnoticed when she broke away from her entourage. She had caught sight of two peacocks strutting away over a small bridge, and following them she came upon a pathway lined with unripe plum trees.
Next, a couple of Mandarin ducks distracted her, and proceeding further away from the inner palace grounds she eventually drifted through gardens, bridges, alleys, gates, and more gates, alleys, bridges and gardens; until her red silken shoes ventured into a dilapidated and gloomy corner of the Imperial City.
Thinking that the place was under renovation, she was about to turn back, but when she suddenly heard a sound far away, she listened. On it came, a melancholic melody, at first like the sighing of a gentle zephyr and the lightness of a feather floating down. Then the plucked strings thrilled like a dawn chorus and roared like the rolling of the waves, before it faded as tranquil as snow melting.
The doors from the gate left ajar, Emika soon spotted a young man sat on the veranda and playing the lute. All she saw was a strong sturdy back that sat elegantly and with such proudness that he couldn't belong to this small tumbledown residence.
Unobserved, Emika was spying on the young man. She really didn't expect a man to play a musical instrument this well. She thought that men lack the emotional thread spun into music and thus only knew the art of war, horse riding, swords, women and liquor.
A loud squawking.
The lute player was still plucking the strings while chiding the emerald-green bird with a ruby beak delivering gurgles, whistles and squawks.
Meanwhile, Emika noticed that a boy, probably of her own-age, sitting on the stairs didn't move. His head stooped forward, his arms crossed on his chest, he remained unperturbed despite this comical cacophony.
However much the lute player chided the parrot, he failed to hush the tone-deaf bird who redoubled its efforts to outshine its rival. Finally the young man used his fingers to poke its tummy. "Oi! You need singing lessons."
The intruder, who had crept in silently, now betrayed her identity by a suppressed giggle.
At this, any ordinary person would reflexively turn around and look, yet, the young man didn't flinch. But the boy who was, until now, seemingly deeply asleep, had bounced down the stairs, unsheathed his sword, and was running towards the gates with the footfalls of a panther.
However, Emika had already fled along with her disappointment for she had not clearly seen the face of the mysterious lute player.
Who would have thought that the last two hurried glances which she had bestowed upon the lute player should one day decide her fate?