Marriage of falling petals
I bent my chest into the knees, gazing the river, with a wander; hidden in the dark hair. A shadow echoed the gaze of mine, where those lotus lanterns were dragging my soul into the flow.
A call suddenly from my maid was paused in the hushed night, and then has been sent off by the hanging fingers of a wily willow, like a muffled cry from a passionate crow, into the pond, into the water. A marriage was drifting down, at eight-teen, along the way. I would be married to him, neither a poor scholar, nor an uneducated vulgarian, but a perfect lover, a wealthy and cultured official. Those jealous eyes of my father’s consorts, like hooves of a horse, were chasing after, constantly, through every winding path of the spacious garden.
Idly I stood in the garden, a lavender-pink satin robe, the cherry blossoms curled up from the bottom to the top at the center, embroidered with soft floss silk and gold-wrapped thread. Pairs of decorated butterflies were edging on the curling collar and side seams on the black metallic saint, within and against an emerald-and-pearl pendent hairpin highlighted on my sculpted hair. The maidservants continued ambling on, gazing upon and sniffling on various flowers in bright blooming.
Suddenly confronting two butterflies pairing through, I spread out to catch over with a fan. Alas, they danced away, by an undisturbed move I tiptopped in the follow. The scene beside me, a lingering figure was strolling on from one step to another along the curving track of the long verandas, among the shades of bamboos.
Before reaching the ornamented inner gate (垂花门), a second, I paused. It is a place for me to stop. There appeared, you passed, caught up with the rosy-cheeks among flowers. You answered with an expression at a grin in the warm silence of midautumn sun.
My father had five concubines, Lady Jia, primary wife of my father, vicious and cruel, frequently tried to harness the surge of my father’s affection to mother. On the other hand, she was seeking to exclude of my mom from the husband upon a gradual consolidation with other three wives.
The slender and long eyebrows lifted on her swelling face which swayed like a boat when her voice screamed in rage’s ride upon events, subjects, servants, and the like. Despite the continuing hostility she brought to play, the man has the more affectionate terms with my mother.
