Opinions about Yu Xiaoyao are as divided as the wind. Some adore her for her stunning beauty, others loathe h…
Opinions about Yu Xiaoyao are as divided as the wind.
Some adore her for her stunning beauty, others loathe her for her perceived "fickleness." But most found themselves torn between the two, utterly at a loss.
"At a loss? What concern is that of mine?" When a pageboy relayed the gossip, Yu Xiaoyao was applying makeup before a mirror. A faint smile touched her lips, but her hand never faltered, each stroke precise, until her eyes gleamed like autumn rivers, her brows arched like distant mountains, a vision to steal any heart.
Then she rose, gliding past the stares, leaving only perfume and longing in her wake.
Rumors, speculation, prying eyes... these meant nothing to her. Only one question truly mattered: What, exactly, was this thing called love?
It must be something precious. Why else would her mother abandon her young daughter, cast aside everything, even change her face, only to die for it?
Older now, she sought out the man who had haunted her mother's dreams. And was sorely disappointed.
The man was coarse, dull. As he lay bleeding out, she could find no redeeming quality in him.
Love wasn't treasure. It was a curse. One that robbed people of a sense and self.
So Yu Xiaoyao began a quest to study love. At first, she never showed her true face. Blessed with her mother's talent for disguise, she could mimic anyone with a few brushstrokes. She posed as lovers, listening to their vows, observing their passion, only to grow bored. All lovers become fools in the end, she realized, their idiocy indistinguishable across class and status. Later, noticing the hunger in men's eyes when they looked at her, she dropped her masks and smiled openly, only to grow bored again. Love, she concluded, was fragile, shallow, and powerless.
Now... now she was as you saw her. Offering warmth, but never devotion, delighting in games, but never losing herself. She studied hearts, parsed yearnings, still searching for an answer.
Sometimes, as she paints her face or smiles at lovesick admirers, she shares stories of her journey.
She wants them to understand that the world is vast, but love is fleeting, so do not lose your soul for it.