Preface
Wei Wuxian and the Damsel of Annual Blossoms
Wei Wuxian was sitting peacefully on the end of the pier, which stretched out over a lake still blooming with the last lotus flowers of the season, when his reading was interrupted.
“What are you doing?” Jiang Cheng asked, standing over him.
“Memorising poetry, of course,” Wei Wuxian replied, without looking up from his book.
“Memorising poetry?” Jiang Cheng said, with far too much incredulity. Wei Wuxian liked poetry. “What are you doing that for?”
“So I can see the Damsel of Annual Blossoms, of course,” Wei Wuxian said,
“So you can see the…”
“Would you like to hear a poem?”
Jiang Cheng scowled, “No, why would I want to…”
Wei Wuxian, meanwhile, did not wait for his answer.
“The grass is spreading out across our garden path,
Each year, the gardener kills it, then it flourishes again.
It’s burnt but not destroyed by his weeding efforts,
When spring winds blow they bring it back to life.
Here, its scent invades our home,
Its emerald green overruns the stone path.
Again I see the gardener depart,
To try and kill off all the grass again.” Wei Wuxian finished with a grin.1.1
“What… that’s… you have that poem open right in front of you! How could you recite it wrong?” Jiang Cheng said, leaning over Wei Wuxian’s shoulder, and jabbing his finger at the clearly written out poem.
“I did it on purpose, of course,” Wei Wuxian said,
“Why would you recite it wrong on purpose?” Jiang Cheng straightened back up, “How do you expect the Damsel of Annual Blossoms to give you a flower like this?”
“I want to see the Damsel of Annual Blossoms, not get a flower from her,”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Anyone can receive a flower from the Damsel, you just have to memorise a poem, wander into her garden, and recite it correctly. There’s nothing special about that!” Wei Wuxian said, waving a hand dismissively, “But! When people recite poems badly, she gets mad, and throws a flower at them, and then throws them out of the garden. In order to do all that, surely she must appear in front of them. So, if I recite enough bad poetry at her, she’ll come and throw a flower at me, and I’ll be able to catch a glimpse of the beautiful Damsel before she throws me out of her garden!” Wei Wuxian grinned.
Jiang Cheng stared at him in disbelief.
“Do you want to hear another poem?” Wei Wuxian asked,
“No! Recite one more line of your terrible poetry and I’ll throw you in the lake!”
Ignoring the threat, Wei Wuxian began,
“On a pier I meet my dearest shidi,
Slowly, slowly, don’t throw me in the lake…”
SPLASH!
Wei Wuxian spluttered and floundered gracelessly in the lake, before managing to right himself. He floated in the lake, treading water, and laughed.
On all sides, lotus flowers were in bloom.2
The story of the Damsel of Annual Blossoms was a popular one, passed among all young cultivators. It went like so:
Once there was a poet, and this poet planted a garden. He treated the flowers as friends, and came every day to recite poetry to them. The flowers were so moved by his poetry, that they crystallised into a spirit; the Damsel of Annual Blossoms.
If one should find themselves in the garden of the Damsel of Annual Blossoms while the moon was in the sky, they should recite poetry to her. If the poetry is pleasing to her, reminding her of that first poet, then she will gift her visitor an annual blossom, the fragrance of which will persist for three years. However, if she deems the poetry poor, she will throw a flower in her visitor’s face, then cast them out of the garden.
Many people visited the garden to try and please the Damsel; and in reality, it was not too hard. One simply had to memorise a poem, and recite it correctly in her garden. So, many walked away holding her fragrant blossoms. But no-one ever saw her face.
“From whose home loudly flies the shriek of a bamboo flute…”
“Will you shut up?” Jiang Cheng groused,
“…It’s carried by the spring wind which fills Luoyang city…” Wei Wuxian continued in his butchered poetry recitation,3
“Save the Jiang sect some face, will you? To hear the head disciple spout such nonsense…” Jiang Cheng continued in his grousing.
Wei Wuxian’s desire to see the Damsel of Annual Blossoms had taken the pair from Yunmeng to Tanzhou, mangling poetry all the way. Jiang Cheng had tried to talk Wei Wuxian out of antagonising the Damsel, to no effect. And so, they were now only hours away the Damsel of Annual Blossoms’ garden, sure to reach it by the time the moon rose in the evening.
“Tell you what,” Wei Wuxian said, “Why don’t you go into the garden and recite poetry first, so the Damsel can give you a flower before I taunt her and get thrown out? Maybe hearing some good poetry first will make her more tolerant!”
“I suppose someone needs to make up for the embarrassment your poetry causes…”
Wei Wuxian laughed. “Come on, let’s find some food before we head to the garden.”
It was just past dusk, and the full moon hung low on the horizon, when Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng reached the garden.
“Well, after you,” Wei Wuxian said, gesturing towards the garden’s gate.
And so, Jiang Cheng entered the garden.
Wei Wuxian sat down against the garden wall. He didn’t expect Jiang Cheng to be long; after all, how long could it take to recite one poem?
Only a few minutes later, the garden’s gate reopened. Wei Wuxian stood as Jiang Cheng emerged, sprig of sweet scented osmanthus blossoms in his hand.
“So, the Damsel approved of your poetry, then?” Wei Wuxian said,
“Of course she did. I made sure to recite it properly,” Jiang Cheng said pointedly,
“Ah, I know what you’re going to say. But I came all this way to see the Damsel of Annual Blossoms! And besides,” Wei Wuxian gestured to Jiang Cheng’s osmanthus sprig, “we already have flowers to take back to Lotus Pier,”
“If you really must see the Damsel, surely there’s some other way than antagonising her?” Jiang Cheng asked, despairingly.
Wei Wuxian grinned, “But where’s the fun in that?”
He pushed open the gate, and entered the garden.
Illuminated only by the light of the moon and stars, the garden was cast in dark, monochrome shadows. A cool autumn breeze rustled the leaves, and insects chirped.
Around the garden were blooming camellias and chrysanthemums, interspersed among leafy trees and shrubs, all wild and overgrown. The ground was carpeted by soft grass and weeds. Positioned so one could sit and admire the garden were a stone pavilion, tables, and seats, all cracked around the edges, with moss creeping over them. Vines of honeysuckle and jasmine were tangled over the pavilion, climbing up tree trunks, and up the garden walls.
Despite its fame, and many guests, no-one had cared for this garden in years. Still, it was filled with an air of tranquillity.
Surrounded by such peace, Wei Wuxian itched with the urge to disturb it.
And so, pacing back and forth, Wei Wuxian began loudly to recite:
“South of your garden, north of your garden, all is spring water,
A flock of poets is all you see come each day.
The floral path never gets swept for your guests,
Today for the first time I force your gates open...” 4.1
The cold wind picked up, and Wei Wuxian's recitation was interrupted as a cloyingly sweet honeysuckle flower was thrust into his face.
He opened his eyes, and stared up at the sparkling stars in the night sky. A head’s silhouette appeared above him.
Wei Wuxian realised he was lying on the rough ground outside the garden.
“Well?” Jiang Cheng asked, from where he leaned over him,
“I just had a flower thrown in my face, and was thrown out!” Wei Wuxian said,
“And? What did you expect?”
“I didn't even see her face! Not even a glimpse!” Wei Wuxian whined,
“Of course you didn't see her face! Why would she show her face to an idiot like you, who can't recite a line of poetry?”
Wei Wuxian pouted. Still, he sat up.
“Come on, let's go back to the inn,” Jiang Cheng said,
“Back? But I haven't seen the Damsel yet!”
“But you…”
“And she didn’t even let me finish the poem!” Wei Wuxian said, scrambling to his feet,
“But…”
“I need to try again!”
“What? No…”
Ignoring Jiang Cheng's protestations, Wei Wuxian pushed open the gate, and entered the garden once more.
The quiet garden was just as Wei Wuxian had left it; there was no sign he had been there. Nor was there a sign of the Damsel of Annual Blossoms.
“I hadn’t finished, you know!” Wei Wuxian announced to the empty garden, “Throwing me out like that was quite rude!”
He received no response but the rustling of leaves.
“So, I’m going to continue. Now, let me finish this time, okay?” he said.
Wei Wuxian cleared his throat, and then, picking up where he had left off, began to recite;
“Far from the spring, your flowers have little fragrance,
Your poor garden can offer only dull and lifeless trees,
Consent to show your face to this visitor…”
A cold wind picked up. Wei Wuxian rushed to complete the last line of his ‘poem’,
“…Before at the fence you throw me out, with your remaining flowers.” 4.2
A camellia hit him in the face.
The next thing he knew, he was lying on his back outside the garden again.
“Well?” Jiang Cheng asked, leaning over Wei Wuxian again,
“I still didn’t see her!”
“So, are you ready to go back now?”
“No!” Wei Wuxian said, stretching his arms up, and making motions to grab at Jiang Cheng,
“You can get up on your own!”
On his third attempt, Wei Wuxian was hit by a chrysanthemum, then thrown out on his back again, with still not a glimpse of the Damsel. Jiang Cheng was sitting against the wall, entertaining himself by tossing a small rock up and down.
His fourth attempt yielded the same result.
“Give up, already! Or I’m going to leave without you!” Jiang Cheng snapped.
Wei Wuxian ignored him.
The fifth time Wei Wuxian ended up flat on his back, Jiang Cheng was looming over him again. He reached down, and dragged a still slightly dazed Wei Wuxian to his feet.
“Right, that’s it!” Jiang Cheng said, “We’re leaving! I want to go to bed!”
“It’s not even that late!” Wei Wuxian protested,
“I don’t care,” Jiang Cheng said, dragging Wei Wuxian away from the garden.
“But…!”
“I don’t care!”
When Wei Wuxian woke the next morning, sunlight was already streaming in through the window of the room they’d book at the inn. Jiang Cheng was still in bed with the blanket drawn up over his head. It was a while longer before either of them moved. Their first conversation of the day was to squabble over who would get breakfast for the both of them. After failing to reach an agreement, they went to find food together.
It was only after they had both eaten that conversation turned to other matters.
“So, are you ready to head home?” Jiang Cheng asked,
“Home? But I haven’t seen the Damsel of Annual Blossoms yet!” Wei Wuxian said,
“We saw her last night!”
“No, we didn’t!”
“Well, we didn’t see see her…”
“So, we can’t go home yet! We have to go back again tonight, and try again,”
“Your plan didn’t work!”
“My plan hasn’t worked yet.”
And so, for the second night in a row, Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian stood outside the garden of the Damsel of Annual Blossoms, under light of the moon.
“I can’t believe you dragged me out here again,” Jiang Cheng complained, “Can’t you just recite a poem properly, and receive a flower, so we can go home?”
“Why would I do something like that?” Wei Wuxian asked with a grin, before pushing open the gate, and once again stepping into the garden.
He paced through the garden, identical in appearance to the night before.
“Hello! It’s me again!” Wei Wuxian called into the night, “I’m going to recite poetry until you show your face, OK? This one’s my unique take on Ode to the Goose,” he said, then began,
“Goose, Goose, Goose,
You bend your neck towards me and honk…”
The cold wind picked up, and the cloyingly sweet floral scent filled the air.
“…Your white feathers ruffle menacingly,
Your red feet…” 5
His last line was cut off as a handful of flowers hit him in the face.
Wei Wuxian opened his eyes to find he was lying on the ground just outside the garden, the scent of sweet autumn clematis clinging to him. Jiang Cheng glared down at him.
“Your hair’s a mess,” he said.
Wei Wuxian sat up, and ran his hands through his hair. Several crushed petals fell out.
“Are you ready to give up yet? If we head back now…”
“Of course not!” Wei Wuxian said, clambering to his feet.
Wei Wuxian’s second attempt that night was met by even more flowers (somehow some sort of stone fruit blossoms among them? He hadn’t seen any blooming in the garden) pelting him in the face, getting caught in his hair and mouth. But there was no sight of the Damsel herself. After his third, and fourth attempts, he was spitting out peach blossom petals, and vainly plucking at catkin fluff caught in his hair. By the fifth attempt, Jiang Cheng ranted that he was going to choke on all the pollen, and Wei Wuxian was going to return to the inn and have a bath so help him…
And so, for the second night, Wei Wuxian did not see the Damsel of Annual Blossoms.
Still, Wei Wuxian did not give up. So, for the third night in a row, he returned to the garden, dragging Jiang Cheng behind him.
“You don’t need to come with me,” Wei Wuxian said, as Jiang Cheng groused about spending all night standing out in the cold as Wei Wuxian antagonised a spirit.
“Of course I do! Who knows what trouble you’d get yourself into without supervision!” Jiang Cheng said.
They reached their destination, and Wei Wuxian once again entered the now familiar garden. He cleared his throat, and began to ‘recite’:
“I refuse to be idle, as osmanthus flowers fall,
This quiet night in autumn, I disturb the peace…”
Amidst the peaceful night, a whirlwind of sweet-scented osmanthus petals picked up around Wei Wuxian,
“The moon comes out and startles the birds on the hill…”
A rain of flowers rushed towards him.
Quickly, he blurted out his last line, “I join them in shrieking in the autumn ravine.” 6
He was inundated by a wave of flowers.
Wei Wuxian, ever determined (or stubborn, or perhaps pig-headed, or just ridiculous, depending on who you asked), tried again. The wind picked up, and loquat blossoms and catkins started falling on him menacingly before he even spoke.
He was once again thrown out before catching a glimpse of the Damsel of Annual Blossoms.
And again.
And again.
And again.
Eventually, Jiang Cheng once more dragged him back to the inn.
For a fourth night, Wei Wuxian, accompanied by a reluctant Jiang Cheng, returned to the garden.
The minute he stepped foot inside, the wind picked up, prickling cold against his skin. Chrysanthemums and camellias drifted threateningly about him.
As soon as he opened his mouth, he was pelted with flowers, and thrown from the garden.
“That’s got to be a record for how quickly you were tossed out,” Jiang Cheng said,
“She didn’t even let me speak!”
Wei Wuxian began blurting out the first line of a poem the moment he stepped foot in the garden, “South of the river is…” 7.1
A whirlwind of jasmine attacked, and he was thrown from the garden.
“I was even reciting it correctly!”
“Well, maybe if you hadn’t spent the last three nights harassing her…”
Again, and again, Wei Wuxian entered the garden. And again, and again, he was attacked by a rain of flowers, jasmine, and osmanthus, and sweet autumn clematis, which clung to him in clouds of pollen, crumpled petals, and overwhelmingly sweet scents, before being thrown from the garden.
“Hey, come on, my poetry’s not that bad, is it?” he said.
Just inside the garden, swirling clouds of myriad flowers hovered threateningly.
“Well, if you don’t like it, I’ll stop.”
The swirling flower-filled winds calmed ever so slightly.
“All you have to do is show me your face!”
The winds picked up again with a vengeance, flowers tossing about angrily.
“Ah, well. If you won’t show your face, I guess you want to hear more of my poetry!” He cleared his throat, and began,
“The lotus lakes are good,
Now, I know the landscape well.
At sunset, the lake’s flowers are red like fire,
In spring, the lake’s water’s green as lilies.
How could I ever want to leave the lotus lakes?” 7.2
On the last line, Wei Wuxian took the last step forward to stand inside the garden proper.
The whirlwind of flowers rushed towards him.
Amongst the storm of petals, Wei Wuxian caught a glimpse of long, mahogany dark hair, whipped around in the wind.
And as he was pushed back out the gate, vision almost entirely obscured by petals, he saw her. Cheeks flushed, lips twisted in a scowl, thorn-sharp glaring eyes.
Everything went black.
Wei Wuxian opened his eyes, to find himself lying on the ground outside the garden again, the gate shut tight.
“Ugh, you reek! You’re giving me a headache! I am never going to be able to smell another flower again…” Jiang Cheng ranted.
Wei Wuxian burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Jiang Cheng demanded,
“I saw her!” Wei Wuxian said, “I saw the Damsel of Annual Blossoms!”
That stopped Jiang Cheng short.
“You… what? You did?”
“I did!” Wei Wuxian felt giddy with it.
He sat up, still laughing, and shook his head. A shower of flower petals, from plum blossoms, and orchids, and chrysanthemums, among many more, fell around him.
“Well…?” Jiang Cheng asked,
“Ah, she’s even more beautiful than they say!” Wei Wuxian said, and plucked what appeared to be a peach blossom from where it was caught in his sleeve, “Just a glimpse of her face is enough to make everything worth it,” he gently twirled the flower between his fingers.
The next day, Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng began their journey back home to Yunmeng.
Myriad flowers continued to fall from where they were caught in Wei Wuxian’s clothes, their sweet scents still clinging to him. He spent much of the journey toying with these flowers, while praising the beauty of the Damsel of Annual Blossoms.
“She really was…” Wei Wuxian began, running his fingers over a crumpled white orchid that had fallen from his sleeve, while staring out at the green hills ahead of them.
“…incredibly beautiful, of flawless appearance, truly worthy of her reputation,” Jiang Cheng finished, “Yes, I get the idea, you’ve only said it a million times. I almost miss your so-called poetry…”
“Aw, you liked my poetry?” Wei Wuxian said,
“No!” Jiang Cheng protested,
“Because I have plenty more memorised, if you’d like to hear it,” Wei Wuxian said,
“I never said I liked it!” Jiang Cheng said,
“Hm…” still staring out over the hills, where the grass waved in the wind, Wei Wuxian began,
“The grass is spreading out across the plain,
Each year, it dies, then flourishes again.
It’s burnt but not destroyed by prairie fires,
When spring winds blow they bring it back to life.
Afar, its scent invades the ancient road,
Its emerald green overruns the ruined town.
Again I see my noble friend depart,
I find I’m crowded full of parting’s feelings.” 1.2
He fell into silence. The winded plucked at the orchid in his hand. A petal came loose, and was carried away, drifting off into the distance.
Jiang Cheng said, “So you do know how to recite poetry properly!”