Yu Yi continued watching the birds when suddenly she heard someone call her name: “Yu Yi.”
Yu Yi slightly furrowed her brow. No one had ever called her by her full name before, not even her parents. She turned to look in the direction of the voice and saw a young man standing outside the pavilion, around twenty-six or seven years old. His features were delicate, with clear, deep black eyes. He was dressed ordinarily but stood with an upright posture and a confident, composed demeanor.
Seeing that he was not wearing servant’s clothing, she cautiously stood up and took a step back, asking, “Sir, who are you? Why are you here?”
“Meng Qing,” he said. “Meng from Confucius’s name, Qing from dragonfly.” He smiled slightly, but his eyes seemed to hold a hint of sadness.
Yu Yi tried to remain calm. Chun Yan and Yue Tao would be coming soon, so she couldn’t panic. She raised her chin and called out loudly towards another direction, “Big brother, Hong Zhi, is this Meng gentleman your friend?”
The man who called himself Meng Qing smiled: “There’s no one around, only you. Don’t pretend. And don’t be afraid. I’ll stand here and won’t come any closer. I just want to talk to you.”
Yu Yi looked at him suspiciously: “Chun Yan and Yue Tao will be here soon. What does Master Meng want to say?”
Meng Qing just looked at her, murmuring, “I don’t know what to say.”
I have so many things I want to say, but no time.”
He lowered his eyes and laughed self-deprecatingly: “It was so foolish of me to come here. You don’t know me at all right now. What could I possibly say?” The young girl in the pavilion was so naive and innocent, practically still a child. He had originally wanted to pour out his feelings while he still remembered her, but facing this fourteen-year-old girl full of wariness and hostility, he couldn’t utter a single word.
