Qian sighed as she watched the blossoms float gracefully from the trees and on to the stream. The water rolled over the smooth pebbles, creating a calm and soothing noise. A soft, sweet wind blew. Oh, how she wished she could be as carefree as the pale pink flowers, carried off by the cool water, away from the tree that would burden the poor, helpless blossoms with restraint.

There was a rustle in the bushes. Qian whipped her head around, just in time to see a glimpse of a sandal slipping into the bush. A few leaves fell.
“Hello?” she asked with an uneasy tone. “I don’t particularly like being watched, so please, come out!”

Out of the bushes stepped a young man, who looked about the same age as Qian. He had quite a thin frame for a boy, making his red merchant’s robes hang loose on his body. Qian’s eyes made their way to this mysterious merchant’s face. His thick, dark hair was messy, and hung unevenly over his eyes. It curled inwards just below his ears, accentuating his cheekbones. His eyes were sparkling and friendly, but the feature that caught her attention was his mouth. It was currently curved into a mischievous smile. His smile. Qian didn’t know what it was about that smile, but it took her breath away.

“I didn’t want to disturb you, miss… It’s just that you looked so peaceful on your own, it would have been wrong to cause any disruption!”
He bowed down low.
“I am Zhang Yixing, travelling merchant,”

Qian lifted herself off her seat and bowed back.
“Song Qian, daughter of Imperial Guard Song,” she said, then sat back down.
“Now, are you going to stay there looking foolish or are you going to sit down here?”

Qian knew meddling with people as low in status as a merchant was wrong, but something inside her told her otherwise.

“I would love to, Song Qian!” said Yixing, purring her name with delicacy. His eyes crinkled, and his lips widening into a smile and revealing two deep dimples on his cheeks. Qian felt heat rush to her cheeks, and the hair at the back of her neck stand. What was happening to her? She shrugged it off, ignoring it.

The two sat in silence for what seemed like hours, with one occasionally looking at the other. Qian managed to sneak a few glances, taking time to study Yixing’s features in depth.

His nose curved perfectly, and his eyelashes fluttered daintily every time he blinked. His lips were parted slightly, but neatly. There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“Staring at me?” he asked. Qian inhaled sharply, surprized at being caught.

“I-What? No! Of course not! I have much higher standards than you!” she replied, quite flustered.

That cheeky grin had returned to Yixing’s lips. “I’m sure you weren’t,” he said, although he didn’t sound convinced.

“Oh, be quiet!” laughed Qian. “I’m sorry, little merchant, but−”

“Little merchant?” interrupted Yixing. “How do you know I’m not older than you?”

“I don’t…” said Qian unsurely.

“Well, then. How old are you?” Yixing said cockily.

“I’m sixteen years old. What about you?” she said, eyeing him curiously.

“Seventeen. Ha! I am older than you!” Yixing laughed triumphantly.

“Okay, you win. My turn to ask a question. How did you get past the guards into the Imperial Gardens?” Qian said, suspicion hinting in her tone.

“I jumped the fence. It wasn’t hard,” scoffed Yixing. “Okay, now my turn. Why didn’t you call the guards when you saw a rogue merchant in the Imperial Gardens?”

“I-Well, I-I’m not sure…” Qian said, once again flustered and at a loss for words. It was true; she really didn’t know. There was just… something about Yixing that told her not to.

“Oh. Okay,” said the boy, looking off in the distance. Qian looked down, and shifted her small, bound feet uncomfortably. What was she doing alone with a merchant boy? Her father would surely scold her if he found out.

A few more silent minutes passed, both Qian and Yixing admiring and absorbing the garden’s tranquillity.

A sudden, unexpected gasp came from Yixing, surprising Qian.

“Is something wrong?” she questioned, concerned.

“I have to go. Will I be able to see you again?” he asked, his tone filled with worry.

“Oh! How about here tomorrow?” suggested Qian. “Same time, same place?”

“Sure. See you tomorrow, Song Qian!” he said, as he slipped over the fence with the agility of a fox.

“See you too, Zhang Yixing…” whispered Qian.

*

“Qian, are you okay? You look pale. You’re not ill, are you?”

“No, mother! I’m fine!” Qian sighed. Her mother always worried about these kinds of things.

“Are you sure? I could give you some medicine―” said her mother.

Her younger brother stared at her worriedly.

“No! I’m fine!” said Qian, standing up and leaving the room to go to her own. She had barely any of her rice or chicken.

The truth was, she wasn’t fine. In fact, she was far from it.
Zhang Yixing. The name that kept replaying itself over and over in her mind.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him. The arrogant merchant boy who’d climbed his way into the Imperial Gardens.

The boy with the twinkling eyes and the warm smile.

She couldn’t work out why she found him so... so captivating.

Stop! Stop thinking about him! He’s a merchant, he’s below you!

Qian advanced to her window, and rested her arms on the frame. She looked out, over her village. The sky was patterned with swirls of pink, purple and orange, the sun barely visible in the horizon. She saw fields of rice, and huts with intricately designed roofs. Farmers were finishing up for the day, fastening their oxen to their wagons. Women were collecting water from the river that ran through the village, and the trees blew in the cool breeze.

She had an uneasy feeling in her stomach.

Where are you now, Zhang Yixing?

*

Qian was crouching down by the stream, clutching her orange and yellow silk robes in one hand and feeding rice to a Mandarin duck she had found with the other. Its feathers were a brilliant array of orange, white, emerald green, dark blue, purple, red, gold and silver.

“I shall call you Mei, beautiful creature,” she told it, although she knew it wasn’t really listening. It was a duck, after all.

“Mei?” said a voice behind her. “Doesn’t that mean ‘beautiful’ anyway?”

Qian gasped, so surprised she fell backwards, almost into the stream.

A hand shot out and grabbed hers, pulling her into the chest of the person who had saved her from falling. The duck flew away.

“My, be careful Qian!” said Yixing, his permanent smile widening. “You could ruin that lovely silk!”

Qian, still in Yixing’s embrace was too startled to reply. Her heart was beating faster than she ever imagined it could. She felt as if a whole tree of blossoms had bloomed inside her.

She released herself from Yixing’s arms, and dusted off her robes.

Yixing bent down and picked something up.

“Here, for you,” he said, holding a brilliant purple feather out. She recognized it as one of Mei’s feathers. “It’s beautiful, like you,” he said.

Was Yixing... blushing?

Qian knew she certainly was.

“Oh, thank you...” she said, unsure of why she was feeling like this.

He moved closer to Qian and fastened the feather to her floral headpiece. He was a little bit taller than Qian, about half a head.

“There,” he said. “Purple, the colour of elegance. Beautiful,”

The two sat down on the stone seat, talking to one another about nothing in particular.

“Yixing,” began Qian. “Where do you sleep at night?”

“You don’t want to know...” said Yixing uneasily. He looked down and shifted uncomfortably.

“Yes I do!” said Qian, trying to cheer him up.

“No you don’t...” he said.

“Yes. I really do!” Qian was stubborn.

“Okay, fine... I... I don’t really live anywhere. I just find somewhere to sleep and stay there for the night. I sell cloth to people, but they don’t normally buy from me because I’m young. That’s why I travel from village to village,”

Qian looked at Yixing with sadness.

“If my parents would allow me, I’d give you somewhere to stay. I really would... It’s just they’d disapprove of you... I’m so sorry...”

“That’s fine, Qian. I’m used to it. I have been for the past four years, it’s nothing anymore. I still manage to eat, at least!”

His bright smile returned.

The two of them stared at each other for what seemed like hours.

Yixing’s hand crept up and placed itself upon Qian’s. His touch sent a special kind of warmth running though her hand, arm, and finally to her heart.  She jumped at the sudden sensation.

“Oh! Are you okay?” asked Yixing, genuine concern in his eyes.

“Of course!” replied Qian, although her voice was a bit shaky.

She didn’t know what possessed her when she decided to rest her head on Yixing’s shoulder. Maybe it was because she felt the same warmth from his hand in his shoulder? Maybe because she was tired of everything, of everyone. She needed a break, an escape.

Yixing was that escape.

*

For the past week, Yixing and Qian continued meeting up at the Imperial Gardens in secret. Qian hadn’t removed the feather from her headpiece once. Nobody asked where Qian went. Her father was busy with work, and her mother had her little brother to take care of, so she managed to slip away unnoticed. She knew she should’ve been doing work; cooking, cleaning and whatnot. She knew meeting Yixing in secret was unacceptable. She just didn’t care.

It was on their sixth meeting that Qian was feeling especially unsure.

“Uh, Yixing?” she said, twisting her tiny feet into the ground.

“Yes?” he said, looking up with innocent eyes. “We’re going to have to meet up later tomorrow, there’s something important happening here tomorrow at our usual time... Sorry...”

“No, no! Don’t apologize! It’s not your fault! These aren’t even your gardens!” he laughed. “Well, I’d better leave now before it gets too late. See you tomorrow, a bit later than usual!”

He lifted himself off the seat, and then helped Qian up.

He pulled her towards him, and held her close to him. Qian looked up at Yixing, his eyes and lips smiling at her. She inched closer to him, and pressed her lips against his. She knew it was wrong, but it felt so right. The warmth, that special warmth she felt with Yixing, was flooding her body. The kiss was neither long nor short; it was perfect. She finally broke away, and smiled sadly.

“Goodbye,” she said.

“Goodbye!” Yixing said back, as he slipped over the fence and out of Qian’s sight.

*

Qian stared at her wardrobe blankly.

Which one?

There was such a range to choose from; emerald greens, sapphire blues, ruby reds... Then there was one that caught her eye. It was a brilliant purple, and it fell nicely on her body. She pulled it out and put it on. It was patterned with little pink blossoms that matched her headpiece. The headpiece that was still decorated with a purple feather.

Once she had dressed herself, she walked to the Imperial Gardens. He was already there.

“Hello, Qian. Purple today?” said a deep voice. “You know, purple is the colour of elegance,”

“Yes, Yifan. Hello” she said, avoiding eye contact. Wu Yifan, son of General Wu, leader of the Imperial Guards. He was a couple years older than Qian.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” he asked. He stood before her, holding both her hands with his. He was tall; a head taller than Qian.

“I am,” she said, not looking up.

“It’s the last time we spend together before we wed. Do you have anything you want to say?” he said, looking at her with serious eyes.

“No, nothing,” she said, finally bringing herself to look at him. He smiled at her, but there was something about this smile that was not genuine; it was fake, strained. This was the first time she’d seen Yifan smile. It didn’t suit him.

She didn’t want to marry him, she didn’t love him. She had absolutely nothing in common with him, and could barely talk to him. He was always serious, and could never take a joke.

There was a faint rustle within the bushes behind Yifan. Qian could just make out a face in shrubbery. A pair of lips that normally smile, eyes that would normally smile alongside, and cheeks hat would normally have dimples. Those lips were now pulled back tightly; those eyes were red, filled with betrayal and those cheeks had glistening tears rolling down.

It felt like a hand had plunged itself into Qian’s chest, ripped out her heart and thrown it away, gone forever. She buried her head in Yifan’s shoulder, and let the tears run.

There was another rustle in the bushes, a noise she recognized as someone climbing the fence and leaving.

Yixing leaving.

Qian pulled the feather out of her headpiece and clutched it close to her chest. She inhaled deeply then released it, letting it float down on to the stream, never to be seen again.

Just like Yixing.

*************

[A/N] THEIR LOVE CAN NEVER BE!!!!!!

I almost cried at the end of this because I made such an emotional attachment to Qian >.<

Wow, I'm a bad person.

This was another school project, this one for literature class.

Check out my other stuff too!

Unexpected, Among Other Things... (My main fic, I'm going to update soon)

Not Interested (another school project)

The Diva Club (some crack I'm writing with a friend)

Subscribe and comment, guys!

~Mando