The entire procession took almost half a day's time. When they arrived in front of Mo Yujian's residence, the sun was already up in the sky. Snowflakes stacked on both his shoulders, and as he caught the piece of it, his eyes were dazed, no one knew what he was thinking.
The melodious song of a flute was faintly heard from a distance, but he was too far to discern it.
Amidst the falling snow, his sharp countenance softened and as he lifted his head to stare up to the sky, the silhouette of his figue amidst the snow painted such a captivating yet melancholy image. His jet black hair draped across his shoulder, some of the snow stuck to it as if loathed to part.
"The auspicious hour is here!"
Mo Yujian snapped out of his reverie and unmounted his horse. With a gentle temperament, he helped the bride down from the carriage, holding her soft hand tightly in his grasp. "Careful," he said.
