Chapter 62: The Bard’s Tale and a Fateful Encounter

A gentle breeze swept through, causing the white feather on the poet’s felt hat to sway ever so slightly.

As his fingertips glided across the strings, a melody both soothing and tinged with sorrow began to play.

The surrounding crowd hushed, and the poet, clearing his throat, began to weave a tale whose veracity remained a mystery.

“Once upon a time, in a magnificent palace adorned with shimmering gold, there lived a beautiful princess.”

“Though she enjoyed a life of luxury and fine silks, she was confined within the castle walls, forbidden from venturing even a single step outside.”

“Such was her yearning for the freedom of the outside world that, one late night, the princess, cloaked and unseen, quietly slipped away from the royal palace.”

“Beneath the moonlight, she wandered through the deserted streets, finding everything utterly novel, until she encountered a young fruit seller.”

“Though the youth was poor, his smile was the purest in all the world.”

“He regaled the princess with countless tales—amusing market anecdotes and ancient mountain legends—each story so enchanting that she listened, utterly captivated.”

“From that day forward, whenever the moon ascended, the princess would secretly visit the fruit stall, sharing hushed laughter with the young man, and a quiet affection began to blossom between them…”

The tale was undeniably clichéd, so much so that Yalin had heard remarkably similar versions even in his former world.

Nevertheless, the poet’s voice, brimming with emotion and accompanied by the beautiful melody, held the audience spellbound. Even Luluti, typically so boisterous, was utterly engrossed, a faint, gentle smile gracing her lips.

‘She can make such an expression,’ Yalin mused inwardly, a hint of surprise in his thoughts.

Without her usual hisses, the young lady simply appeared as an adorably clumsy loli, and Yalin had to admit, she was quite endearing.

‘Indeed, a pampered cat!’

Yet, judging by the familiar tropes, the narrative was undoubtedly poised for a significant turn.

As expected, the harp’s melody abruptly quickened, its notes plunging dramatically.

Lowering his head, the poet spoke in a somber tone, “Alas, such idyllic times were not destined to endure. Before long, the king discovered their clandestine meetings.”

“Upon learning that his daughter had become entangled with a common street youth, the king flew into a furious rage, confining the princess to the deepest chambers of the palace, forbidding her from ever stepping foot outside again.”

“From that day forward, the impoverished youth never again saw his beloved appear before him.”

At this point, the poet let out an involuntary sigh, and Luluti’s eyes, too, grew dim with sorrow.

She tugged at Yalin’s sleeve, asking in a hushed whisper, “Hey, what happens to the princess next?”

“I don’t know. All I know is my shoulder is starting to ache.”

His calf received a sharp kick, prompting Yalin to shut his mouth and say no more.

The poet paused, allowing the melancholic mood to fully settle over the audience before he resumed his narrative.

“Even so, the young man never abandoned hope. Come wind or rain, he faithfully stood by his humble fruit stall, never once departing.”

“—‘Give up,’ people urged him. ‘She is a princess; you can never be together!’”

“People advised him, laughed at him, and even mocked his persistence, yet the young man merely shook his head. Night after night, he continued to gaze longingly at the castle that seemed to pierce the clouds.”

“He understood that his humble status made it impossible to walk alongside a noble princess.”

“But even if they were destined never to meet again in this lifetime, he resolved to guard his beloved in his own quiet way, forever watching over her in his heart…”

“And so, spring gave way to autumn, and a year vanished in the blink of an eye.”

“On yet another ordinary night, with the streets hushed and the darkness profound, a most unexpected guest arrived.”

“Then, like a voice from a dream, that once-familiar sound echoed once more in the young man’s ears.”

“‘Hello, if you please, how much does this apple cost?’”

The poet continued his narrative in this fragmented manner, his harp music rising and falling, expertly manipulating the emotions of his captivated audience.

As for the story’s conclusion, it diverged little from Yalin’s own predictions.

In essence, the princess, once again summoning her courage, managed to escape the heavily fortified castle.

However, her trail was inevitably discovered by the guards, prompting the young man to seize the princess’s hand, and together they embarked on a desperate, unwavering flight.

Ultimately, with the cover and assistance of their friends, the pair successfully eluded the guards, eloping to a remote town where they lived happily ever after.

Well, that’s certainly a joyous outcome.

While the plot completely lacked any semblance of logic, Yalin supposed that was simply the nature of fairy tales.

As long as everyone found happiness, nothing else truly mattered.

The harp’s melody slowly faded, leaving a lingering echo as the poet began his final words.

“Love and freedom,” he declared, “are unequivocally the most precious treasures in this world. No matter how formidable the city walls, they can never truly impede hearts yearning to find one another.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, this concludes the final ballad I have brought to you today.”

With his words concluded, the poet removed his hat and performed an elegant bow.

Thunderous applause erupted from the crowd, and a shower of coins rained down into the poet’s outstretched hat.

Luluti’s face glowed with satisfaction, evidently pleased by the story’s conclusion.

It made sense; young girls were often fond of such romantic tales.

When the poet, with a grateful smile, extended his hat toward her, Luluti, without a moment’s hesitation, pulled a thick stack of banknotes from her pocket and promptly dropped them in with a soft thud.

Truly, only Young Lady Luluti could so effortlessly achieve what others could not!

Still, the poet genuinely possessed a certain level of skill, and his earnings were well-deserved.

Yet, the very same poet who had just carried himself with such elegance immediately began to gesticulate wildly, laughing like a madman upon seeing the thick stack of notes. Yalin’s idealized image of bards shattered just a little.

As the music ceased and the crowd dispersed, Luluti remained visibly unsatisfied, still lost in the tale.

“Hey, have you rested enough? Hurry up! There are still so many places we haven’t seen yet!”

“I know, I know. I’m just carrying all the things you bought…”

“Hmph, utterly useless… Oh, look! Isn’t that cotton candy over there? Let’s go get some quickly!”

Entranced by the fluffy white cotton candy, Luluti bolted, sprinting toward it with enthusiasm.

Yalin, laden with numerous bags, sighed helplessly. Just as he prepared to follow her, a sudden tap on his back made him pause.

“Um… are you Yalin… right?”

“Who?”

The voice sounded remarkably familiar. He turned, only to freeze in surprise.

Long, ink-black hair cascaded down, framed by a distinct pair of dragon horns. It was, without a doubt, Liyang.

“It’s you?”

“Yes… I just happened to notice someone in a school uniform and came over to see…”

“Oh, is that so? Haha, what a coincidence, then…”

Yalin let out a few awkward chuckles.

He hadn’t expected to encounter someone he knew; it was genuinely surprising.

Meeting Liyang, however, proved somewhat fortunate. He wouldn’t need to offer extensive explanations and could simply find an excuse to depart.

Yet, her current demeanor struck him as rather odd. She seemed fidgety, as if she had something to say but was holding back.

‘What’s wrong?’

Just as Yalin was about to inquire, his eyes suddenly widened, fixed on something beyond Liyang.

For he distinctly saw a red-haired girl, not far off, sprinting directly towards them.