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Huang Yueying worked busily while softly reciting:
"Outside the eastern gate, ladies like clouds pass by,
Though numerous as clouds, none catch my longing eye.
Plain robe and dark scarf—she alone brings me delight.
Beyond the outer wall, maidens bloom like flowers,
Countless as blossoms, yet none claims my heart's powers.
Plain robe dyed crimson—with her alone I'd stay."
Every child, in their innocent ignorance, believes themselves the most beautiful in the world. Only when they begin interacting with people beyond their immediate family do they gradually understand certain standards—and suddenly realize that self-perceived crown of beauty was merely a soap bubble, popping with a soft "pah" in the sunlight.
Young Huang Yueying had thought herself beautiful too, until growing older revealed the truth—her dark skin and reddish-brown hair set her apart from others. For any girl, such realization strikes like a blow.
From that moment, Huang Yueying ceased socializing with daughters of other gentry families. She could discern the hidden emotions in their eyes—those subtle flashes of disdain, mockery, pity or sympathy that made her ache inside...
So she preferred solitude at the Huang family retreat, burying herself in books or tinkering with devices that might prove useful or remain mere curiosities. At least wood and metal never judged her appearance.
So she had almost no friends—only the boastful Pang Tong, whom she tolerated partly because his complexion was even darker than hers, making her feel comparatively fair...
So she loved this poem from the "Airs of Zheng," sometimes imagining someone who'd see her as the verse described—where "though numerous as clouds," his eyes would hold only this "plain robe dyed crimson" girl.
This was her secret dream...
Then miraculously, she met such a person—
Who came to her aid at Xiangyang's gates when danger struck;
Who guided Huang craftsmen to create labor-saving water saws;
Who clasped her hand beneath twin dragon-phoenix candles at Lushan's foot,
earnestly insisting she wasn't ugly...
In that moment, Huang Yueying knew true happiness—understanding that warmth came not just from winter sun, but from this man's gentle smile.
Thus even without her father's prompting, she longed to contribute somehow—for that hand's warmth, that kindly smile...
Noticing his dissatisfaction with existing armor, she combed through family texts, summoned craftsmen to hammer out plates, then cut leather into slender cords to painstakingly weave them together...
She lined the armor with lambskin and fine linen, hemming the edges so cold metal wouldn't chafe his skin.
Originally a leisurely project, its urgency skyrocketed upon learning of his impending diplomatic mission—no journey was truly safe. So she and Mou Dou worked through the night.
With a final bite severing the thread, the armor was complete.
Huang Yueying's large eyes curved happily as she hefted the armor to inspect its form, meticulously checking for flaws...
The clinking plates roused Mou Dou from where she'd dozed off.
Rubbing sleep from her eyes, the maid confirmed the finished armor and immediately clapped in delight, spinning in place...
Amused, Huang Yueying set down the armor and rapped Mou Dou's head lightly. "What's all this hopping about? Someone vowed to help yet slept halfway through..."
"Oww... Young Mistress~" The maid clutched her head pitifully. "I kept saying 'don't sleep'...but my eyelids wouldn't listen..."
"Come check for mistakes then—ah, wipe your drool first!" Huang Yueying tossed a cloth, pointing at the saliva trail from the maid's nap.
Blushing fiercely, Mou Dou turned away to scrub her mouth before joining the inspection.
Only after thorough examination did they finally relax, satisfied with their work.
Huang Yueying picked up the previously completed helmet, studied it, then seemed to drift into thought before abruptly taking scissors to her own hair—
"Aiyaaa—!" Mou Dou shrieked, grabbing her mistress' wrist. What madness was this? Cutting one's hair!
Startled awake by the scream, Fei Qian stumbled in half-dressed. "What happened? Are you hurt?"
Tearfully, Mou Dou wailed, "Young Mistress stayed up all night...she's delirious! She's cutting her hair!"
Initially embarrassed at being caught, Huang Yueying grew exasperated by the maid's dramatics, rapping her head again. "Delirious your head! I'm just...just..." Her voice trailed off into silence.
Fei Qian exhaled in relief—from the screams, he'd feared injuries. But confusion remained. "Yueying, why cut your hair?"
Hesitantly, almost inaudibly, she explained: "...They say...sewing hair inside the helmet...protects the wearer...ensures safe return..."
"..." Fei Qian sighed, shaking his head. "Silly girl..."
Misinterpreting his tone as disapproval, Huang Yueying froze, eyes misting as she bit her lip.
"For hair, plucking a few strands would suffice! Must you take scissors? And even then, why so much..." Fei Qian approached, gently touching the shorn lock with regret.
Realizing he's not angry at her, Huang Yueying brightened. "It will regrow. I worried...too little might not..." Then noticing his state, she flushed. "Ah! You're not properly dressed!" Pushing him toward their chambers, she changed topics urgently.
"Who says I'm undressed? Merely disheveled...Alright, alright, I'm going..."