Lores stood up, grabbed a long broom And started sweeping the house frontage. He freely swept with willingness, a super bright apathetic smile plastered on his face. The twitters of birds added a further touch to his perky mood. However, the environs brought along a long forgotten feeling. Lores halted, his gleeful smile percolated into a faraway one.
Nostalgia had attacked him.
What could his mother be doing right now? She could be probably watering plants or having breakfast. And Idrissa? The old mage had an up to scratch relationship with the patriarch. They would be probably conversing with the aspect of wise men. The villagers would be working on their farms by now. The kids would play around harmoniously.
Lores eyes shut as he drew out a sigh. It was one of the hitches that came alongside his mission, but he would not despair. He restored his previous mood and continued his work.
The elder who had been watching silently was able to sense the circumstances surrounding the boy he saved. He summed up the situation he found Lores in, together with the boy's adeptness in disclosing his identity at just a glance. He saw a boy who was particularly special, a boy who was trying to find his way in a turbulent world. The elder went back to stirring his broth.
The next day, Lores rose up early. He voluntarily arranged the house before going outside to chop firewood. Lores never believed that the sage was hardhearted. It may take time, but he believed that when the sage sees his enthusiastic performances, he will finally be impelled to accept him.
The world was tough by nature. It was an intense battleground where individuals combatted adverse circumstances, and even their destinies. The weak ones would be trampled while the survivors would share their experiences to the upcoming young ones who would dare to take the same path. They would memorize the vicissitudes; the happiness and sadness of life they had confronted. Nonetheless, for one to survive, they had to be strong. Lores was diligently working towards registering a positive massive impact in his life.
The event in Red Moth Village made him fully understand that the world had tough people in it. And for him to survive, he had to be tough himself for he realized he wasn't tough enough.
The elder came out to see Lores chopping firewood.
Such persistence.
The elder's impression of Lores grew but he did not reveal it.
"Boy, come and have breakfast."
Lores raised his head with a smile. "Right away, master."
Lores dropped the axe and gambolled after the elder. That morning, they had bamboo soup for breakfast. Lores noticed that the elder was a staunch vegan. Although, he was yet to be accustomed to the pungent smell of herbs, he still managed to wear a carefree smile while they were eating.
Lores viewed the elder freely eat. He ate his meal hastily and drank from his bowl with pleasure, giving no mind to any other thing. When he noticed he was the only one making sounds, his eyes fell on Lores who was occupied with surveying him. The boy had a gentle smile of stupidity on his face. Without giving a damn, he looked away to go on with his meal.
"Master, why do you love herbs so much?" Lores asked as he dug into his meal.
"Who's your master?" The elder shot without batting an eyelid. He maintained his demeanor of eating his meal with enjoyment, as if Lores just said nonsense.
"You of course!" Lores was undaunted, sporting an apathetic smile. The elder had to suspend his meal. He drew out a sigh of disinterest, his face blank.
"Boy, it seems you're out of your mind."
Lores chuckled without feeling offended.
"Master, how did you know? I'm truly out of my mind. That's why I need your guidance to straighten it."
The elder observed Lores with reason. What an adamant fellow, he thought. He stood up and made his way to the kitchen only to come back a while later with that thing Lores drank yesterday. He kept the bowl of medicine broth on the table, then coasted it towards Lores whose face contorted at the sight of it. Steam rose from the bowl, polluting Lores' nose.
"Master, I'm really fine. You saw me chopping firewood not long ago. I don't think I need to take this thing again."
The elder replied casually, like he was so sure of himself.
"You're vigorous not because you're really fine, but because you're after something. Don't deceive yourself."
Lores gave it a thought. On his quest for progress, drinking a bowl of medicine was inconsiderable till he got hold of what he was after. He would put up with the damn medicine. It was worth it after all.
"If you say so." Lores smiled broadly, his lips almost elastically touching his ears. He hoisted the bowl and glugged the medicine. "Master, why do I feel that you care about me? Could it be that you've accepted me?" Lores asked lightheartedly.
The elder steeled, though he didn't glimpse at Lores. This boy!
"Who accepted you? I only want you to regain your energy. I don't entertain lazy people in my house." The elder spoke confidently, still keeping his face blank.
"You want me to regain my energy. All the same, it shows you care about me. I promise you, I won't be lazy."
The elder had to shoot a glimpse at Lores before turning away. He pondered if his intention to forestall could match the persistence of Lores. The boy was amazing. He was ostensibly enjoying his persistent pursuit.
He was one of a kind.
The elder left for the kitchen again.
As Lores ate, he suddenly thought of Mo. He quickly dipped his hand behind his lapel and brought out the jade pendant. To his relieve, he still had it with him. He stared emotionally at the ornament. The outing they had that day flashed back to his memory. What now? The prince could be searching everywhere for him. After a while of harking back, he put it back to its place. But then, he pitifully shrugged off his thoughts with a feeling of self-disappoinment afterwards. He was in Liz for a purpose. He really shouldn't be thinking of Mo.
Bloom pavilion
Prince Mo just had an oat bath. In his chamber, two maids were decorously dressing him up. Mo had just worn an embellished sapphire satin. The soft smell of oat and other skin products effused, brandishing the noses of the maids. The fact was that they couldn't get accustomed to the pleasant smell. Each time they dressed up Mo, the sensuous smell was ever refreshing, like a gentle wind wafting in a garden full of peonies, like the aura of moonlit silk flowers in a crispy night. That smell, you just can't get tired of it. They diligently adjusted each part of his clothes, from the high collar covering his lower face to the sleeves and then the waist, as they perfected his three-inch leather belt.
Their faces were thoroughly crestfallen without daring to take even a glimpse at the prince.
After dressing Mo for years, the maids had grown to become perfectionists. Mo was a delicate and esteemed figure. Therefore, the maids paid stringent attention to every detail of his appearance.
Mo had his dark, well-groomed hair done in a high ponytail, a gold hairpiece keeping it firm. A fringe cutely hung above his eye, creating a beautiful contrast with his ivory skin. His face was very smooth and unblemished, just like a polished jade ornament, his red, thin lips curving slightly with an aura of arrogance.
The bronze ear cuff on his ear and conspicuous moonstone rings circling his thumbs highlighted his ever extreme appearance.
When the maids were done, they turned to leave but he called back one of them.
"One of you, come back." His manly voice was pleasant and clear, like the sound of a nightingale.
The maid walked over to him with the usual etiquette. The floor was almost blushing from her unyielding stare.
"Do you think my lapels need a little adjustment?" He verbalized his uncertainty while watching the mirror. The maid attempted to touch his lapels, but his voice froze her on the spot.
"I didn't ask you to adjust them. I asked if they needed it. Feel free to voice out your thought."
She was mystified. When did His Highness ever ask for her opinion? Due to the scenario happening for the first time, she felt unworthy of Mo's laxity. She summoned every ounce of courage to glimpse at him. What she saw was astonishing.
Mo was displaying a rare friendly smile.
An involuntary gasp escaped her as she speedily carried back her gaze downward. On top of that, her heart fluttered. She could feel it throbbing abnormally.
"What? You don't know how to talk?" Mo's tension-inspiring voice sounded yet again. He took his head down to take a good look at her, his grey eyes expectant. The poor maid's vision was focused on the floor.
"Your highness, your lapels have been finely adjusted." She offered gently with decorum.
"So sure? But you haven't taken a look at them." Mo gave her a doubtful gaze carrying a hint of amusement, as if he enjoyed her passivity. He was giving her the jitters without knowing it himself. Mo was only trying to be amiable and carefree. However, it would require a long time for the maids to become accustomed to it. She sighed hushedly before taking a bold step of raising her head. She extended her bravery by requiting Mo's smile. She brought her hands to Mo's lapels and adjusted it slowly and neatly.
"Now it looks good."
Mo smiled satisfactorily at her, nodded and walked out of the room.
In truth, Mo's maids were terribly crushing on him, but they weren't bold enough to flirt with him. The normal Mo usually paid no mind to them. Whenever they greeted him, he would only grunt an 'mmm' without even sparing them a glance. At times, he would just respond with a stiff nod.
The maid watched as the posterior of Mo passed over the threshold, a smile of meaning spreading on her lips. Even though Mo acted bizarrely, his change was for the better. Having Mo chat and even going further to smile at her was considered a colossal honour. She felt so accomplished and relieved with just a little chat with Mo.
The crew Mo sent out to search for Lores returned. It had been two days with no trace of success on the search. They met Mo on the hallway standing in front of the osmanthus flowers that were gracing the facade.
"Your highness, we couldn't find him. Punish us." The head of the crew reported. Their eyes were stringently trained on the ground
Mo's expression dimmed.
"What do you mean? Are you trying to say that Seven has disappeared from the mortal world?"
"I dare not." The crew's head apologetically answered. Mo let out a sigh. The news saddened his soul.
"The search must continue. You must find him, or else don't bother coming back." Mo ordered with a tone of finality.
"Roger." They said in unison and left immediately.
Mo looked worrisome. His eyes fell on the plum tree in reminiscence of Lores' figure. There in front of the plum tree was Lores smiling sheenly at him. His hair fluttered in rhythm with the breeze, his pretty face epitomizing the gorgeousness of a lustering monolith. Those beautiful pigtails, those abyssal eyes that could upset his pride were visible to Mo.
"Seven." Mo called out softly with an enlivened expression as he made to approach Lores. But suddenly, the figure evaporated like a wisp of smoke.
He was hallucinating.
Mo's expression slowly returned to its dim form. He stared wistfully at the azure sky, as if begging for hope. Standing there bemused by the omnipotence of fate, he presented a question with no apparent answer.
"Seven, where are you?"