The warm breeze of Huawu, the tender feelings in my heart.
Clusters of flowers covered the hillsides, their pink and white petals fluttering down onto the bluestone path. This was the abode of the flower fairy, Hua Lingxue. A bamboo fence enclosed an elegant little courtyard, where a swing gently swayed in the corner. Hua Lingxue sat on a stone bench, her slightly protruding belly rubbing against her hand, gazing at the figure standing side by side not far away, a gentle smile in her eyes.
The stream flowed gently, and Wang Mo squatted by its edge, her fingertips playing with the clear water. A few tiny, transparent fish swam timidly past her fingertips. The Water Prince stood behind her, gazing down at the top of her head, his cool eyes filled with an unyielding tenderness. He raised his hand and gently brushed away a petal that had fallen on her shoulder, his fingertips brushing against her ear, causing a slight tickle.
Wang Mo turned her head to look at him, a faint blush rising on her cheeks: "This place is so beautiful. Unlike the quiet of the Water Crystal Palace, it's warm and cozy everywhere."
The Water Prince didn't speak, but simply bent down and tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. His movement was so gentle, as if afraid to disturb the beauty before him. The coolness of his palm touched the warmth behind her ear, sending ripples through his heart. He remembered the holy dewdrops of their first meeting, their time together at the Lingxi Pavilion, their companionship in the forbidden land—all the unspoken love was hidden in this silent tenderness.
"If you like it, come often in the future." His voice was soft, like a stream flowing over pebbles. "I'll accompany you."
Wang Mo's eyes shone like they were filled with starlight. She tiptoed and gently hugged his waist. The Water Prince's body stiffened for a moment, then he slowly raised his hand and pulled her into his embrace. The evening breeze carried the fragrance of flowers, the swing was still swaying gently, and Hua Lingxue's smile grew even softer. Time in the courtyard was as quiet as a tender poem.
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