Qin Ruolan

Velvet Shade has always been a place of joys and sorrows, none more so than in the days surrounding the finalization of the Heroes Assembly performance list. The Flowers often dismiss such petty worries with a scoff, but the gentle Ruo Lan is different. She always takes time to listen. One night, by the west pond of Nimbus Tower, she encountered a young woman dancing alone in the moonlight. Ruo Lan simply stood and watched in the silver light, but the girl started in surprise when she noticed her. "My fault," Ruo Lan interrupted the girl's bow. "Keep practicing, and may your wishes come true in the audition." Her encouragement was as sincere and soft as her smile. But the girl's eyes filled with tears. She had already guessed she would fail. How could she not? The assembly's theme was the "Skyward Dance," and she lacked natural talent. While her peers mastered moves in one try, she needed countless repetitions. Through tears, the girl poured out months of frustration. She didn't expect special treatment, just some comforting lie like "hard work beats talent." But after listening, Ruo Lan looked puzzled. "Wait, you're auditioning for dance, not singing? I followed your voice all the way here!" It was not the response the girl expected. She froze, tears drying mid-fall. Seeing her confusion, Ruo Lan continued gently, "Music and dance are two halves of the same coin. Your singing is lovely." The girl pondered this. When she looked up again, the tears had vanished, replaced by a new light. Amid the girl's grateful bows, Ruo Lan drifted away. She climbed to the Fragrance Pavilion of Nimbus Tower and retrieved several old dresses from a rarely opened bottom wardrobe. Though the peony patterns were faded, the intricate weaving and beaded jade trimmings hinted at their former splendor. It was hard to imagine the modest Ruo Lan, who adorned herself with only simple fragrant herbs, had once loved such ornate clothes. Just as tonight's encounter had reminded her: she too had once obsessed over peony-themed invitations and once resented her master's choices. But Song Ruyan, like a wilting peony, had seen through her struggles. "A single bloom does not make a spring. A thousand colors do," the older woman had chided her. "I want each of you to make me proud." Yes, 120 days of floral beauty, 24 cycles of flower winds. Who says orchids cannot rival peonies? A peony without orchids is less vibrant. Gazing at the old dresses, Ruo Lan smiled that familiar, serene smile. She closed the wardrobe, shutting away a past of obsession and doubt.