Fairy Descending from Beyond the Heavens

The labyrinth diagram was placed at the center of the stage by a maid, and the murmurs of the crowd below seemed to fade further into the distance. Ye Qianran calmed her mind, pacing slowly toward the map. Closing her eyes, she tried to recall the feeling she had the first time she saw the diagram. She believed people possessed a sixth sense—an intuition that was fleeting and rarely captured. All she could remember was the entrance to the labyrinth; nothing else remained in her memory.

Opening her eyes, she traced the entrance, slowly making her way downward. Yet, each time she was about to reach the end, she encountered a dead end. Ye Qianran had tried countless methods, always just one step away. If not for that wall, she could have reached the exit. Why was it always just that little bit short? Irritation rose within her, a thin sweat moistening her palms and beading on her forehead. Gu Qingcheng watched her flushed cheeks and let out a faint, ambiguous laugh.

Ye Qianran grew more agitated, even feeling the urge to tear the map apart, but managed to restrain herself. She took another deep breath, composed herself, and tried again. The result was the same: no matter how she went, only two outcomes awaited—either a dead end or a return to the entrance. The murmuring below grew louder, and she could even make out the discussions among the crowd. One man remarked, "Why does she keep going in circles and end up back at the start?" Another agreed, "Maybe the map is wrong—there’s no way out, and the exit seems useless." Yet another said, "That’s because you’re not clever enough. If this riddle were so easy to solve, we wouldn’t have gone three years without seeing Gu Qingcheng dance."

Suddenly, a thought flashed through Ye Qianran’s mind: "The exit seems useless?" Could it be that the exit was meant to mislead, and the true way out was elsewhere? But upon examining the labyrinth, there was only one entrance and one exit. If the exit was useless, there was only one possible way out—yes, through the entrance itself. Excitement surged in her; this must be it: the entrance was also the exit. Otherwise, one could only be trapped within the labyrinth.

With that realization, Ye Qianran picked up the pen from the table, traced along the entrance, circled around, and finally returned to where she began.

A collective sigh rose from the crowd below. So, it was over—this year, the dance would be missed once more. They had thought this refined young man might bring a different outcome, but in the end...

Ye Qianran only smiled faintly. Gu Qingcheng remained silent, for the answer could be right or wrong—it depended entirely on Ye Qianran’s interpretation.

Ye Qianran did not speak at first but raised an eyebrow and turned to ask, "Miss, is this answer correct?"

Gu Qingcheng saw her confident demeanor and wondered if she truly knew the final answer. She kept her expression serene, only asking curiously, "Sir, what do you mean by this?"

Ye Qianran saw through her feigned puzzlement, thinking, "What a cunning woman; she wants to test whether I am merely lucky or truly understand the answer." Though uncertain herself, there was nothing left but to try.

She stepped forward, pointed discreetly at the labyrinth map, and slowly explained, "What I mean is that the labyrinth has no exit at all. Or, put another way, the entrance is also the exit."

Her words caused a stir among the audience. People looked at one another; the bright quickly grasped the idea. Wei Zhuang smiled lightly—he had not misjudged her. When he received the diagram at eighteen, it had taken him five full years to unravel the mystery. He never expected someone so young to possess such insight; it truly made him see her in a new light.

"Clap, clap, clap"—three crisp rounds of applause. Gu Qingcheng was smiling as she applauded. Ye Qianran let out a breath of relief. It was luck indeed; she had managed to guess correctly.

"Sir, your mind is truly exquisite. I am in awe," Gu Qingcheng bowed with sincere admiration.

Ye Qianran wiped the sweat from her brow and replied modestly, "It was just luck." This was not mere humility—she truly felt unworthy. She knew her success today was a fortunate accident; it was the one who set the riddle whose mind was truly subtle. She had to admit, Gu Qingcheng was no ordinary woman.

Below, the clamor rose again, with everyone calling for Qingcheng to dance. Gu Qingcheng pressed her lips in a smile and gestured for silence. "Now that this gentleman has passed my three trials, I shall not break my word. Please wait a moment while I change attire." She gave the maid a meaningful glance, who then bowed and made a gesture of invitation. Ye Qianran, uncertain of the meaning, could only follow, accompanied by a chorus of whistles and jeers from below. Gu Qingcheng smiled and paid it no mind.

The noise of the main hall faded into the distance as Ye Qianran followed them into the rear courtyard’s warm chambers—Gu Qingcheng’s private residence. A new moon hung on the willow tips, stars scattered across the sky, a breeze stirred the curtains, and the shadows of trees danced. The lotus in the pond swayed in the wind, faint silhouettes visible among them. Passing through gauzy drapes, the atmosphere was fresh and elegant—worlds apart from the lavish decor of the front hall.

The maids led Ye Qianran to the main drawing room, then went off to help Gu Qingcheng change. As Ye Qianran admired the furnishings, she recalled stories her grandmother used to tell—of martial tournaments for marriage, or silk balls thrown to choose a husband. She mused to herself, "Could it be that, having passed her three trials, she intends to offer herself in marriage?" The thought made her smile—if only she were truly a man, it would be a dream come true. Alas, she was a woman.

Just then, Gu Qingcheng emerged from behind a screen, having changed her clothes. Ye Qianran looked closely. She now wore a simple white gown, dark brown silk threads tracing strong, intricate branches on the fabric, while peach-pink embroidery bloomed with plum blossoms from hem to waist. A pale sash cinched her slender waist, accentuating her graceful figure. Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall—fresh, ethereal, a true fairy come to life. Indeed, those who called her a fairy were not mistaken.

"Sir," she saluted gracefully, eyes lowered in shy modesty, like a lotus trembling in the cool breeze. Suddenly playful, Ye Qianran reached out with her folding fan, lifting Gu Qingcheng’s chin. Her eyes, limpid and radiant, sparkled as she sighed, "How beautiful those eyes, how enchanting that smile."

Their gazes met: two elegant beauties, crossing paths—a most exquisite scene.

Gu Qingcheng smiled quietly, amused by this young woman who pretended such seriousness, yet likely did not realize her disguise had already been seen through. She replied softly, "Sir, with your talent, I am deeply impressed. Might you be willing to stay the night, so that I may learn from you?" Her words were gentle and demure, filled with bashful charm.

Ye Qianran withdrew her fan, looking up at the bright stars and clear moon. She had come only to see the dance, and once she had, she intended to leave. To stay in such a place—if word got out, how would she face anyone? So she feigned regret, "Your kind offer flatters me, but I promised my friends we would return together. I truly cannot stay—please forgive me."

Gu Qingcheng’s eyes shimmered, "If your friends do not mind, I can arrange lodgings for them as well, so you may rest assured."

"This..."

"Sir," tears seemed to glimmer in Gu Qingcheng’s eyes, "please, grant me this favor."

Ye Qianran was momentarily bewildered, unsure of her intent.

"Before I took the stage, a friend said that today someone would surely pass the three trials. Though I am not learned, I did not believe it, so we made a wager. He said that if he won, I must persuade you to stay. If you do not, I will have broken my promise." As she spoke, she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. Having spent so long in this place, Gu Qingcheng had learned to read people well, and she knew this playful, curious girl would be drawn in by such words.

As expected.

"Oh?" Ye Qianran was intrigued. The friend she spoke of seemed almost prophetic. After a moment’s thought, she asked, "May I meet this friend of yours?"

"So, you agree? After you enjoy the dance, I will arrange for you to meet him," Gu Qingcheng replied.

Seeing Ye Qianran hesitate, she added, "Rest assured, your friends may also stay with you."

Ye Qianran was now completely at ease. "Thank you for your trouble, Miss Qingcheng."

Gu Qingcheng signaled her maid to escort Ye Qianran to the best viewing room on the second floor—a room that had been vacant for three years, now finally occupied.

Ye Qianran sent word to her brother and Meng Lanyi, reassuring them, before settling in to await the legendary dance that would enchant the city.

Above the stage, seven glass lanterns were suspended. Suddenly, they went out, leaving only the flickering lights on either side of the stage. The sound of a flowing zither began, soft as running water. A white silk ribbon floated through the crowd, winding its way to the central pillar. A woman glided down the ribbon, spinning and turning, as graceful as a wild goose on the wing, as if treading on clouds. Colored streamers flew in her wake. She landed lightly, water sleeves unfurling, her sleeves fluttering like a cascade of falling petals, drifting and swaying, each petal carrying a trace of sandalwood fragrance.

The zither hastened; her movements grew quicker, jade-like hands twisting and turning, skirt swirling, misty eyes half-speaking, half-concealed. She seemed a flower beyond the fog, radiant yet unreachably distant. Ye Qianran felt her heart pounding like a drum, echoing the music.

The music slowed; the dancer’s steps softened. White silk unfurled from her sleeves, winding around the carved pillar. She wrapped one hand five times, hooked one foot seven times, and hung suspended in midair. Suddenly, the music soared—she spun backward, the silk unwinding in circles, like a celestial maiden flying through the ages. Landing lightly, she spun nine times, her waist as supple as water—so beautiful it took one’s breath away.

The music ceased abruptly; the woman vanished as if into the earth, ribbons falling in her wake. No one could see Gu Qingcheng’s expression. The hall was silent, not a sound to be heard.

Ye Qianran’s palms were damp with sweat, her heart still thundering, entirely lost in the dance. Truly, a fairy descended from the heavens—a dance that could enchant the city.

After a long pause, thunderous applause erupted in the hall.

Wei Zhuang snapped open his folding fan. This dance had surpassed even the one three years ago; Qingcheng’s skill had reached new heights.