With the arrival of spring, life in the town continued its unruffled pace.

Over a month ago, Mrs. Derby had taken charge of organizing the annual spring gathering. From the colorful lanterns swaying in the trees to the exquisite array of pastries and carefully curated decorations, everything was flawlessly arranged, leaving even the harshest critics without a word of reproach.

"Who would have thought our madam was so astute," Mrs. Pure commented in private conversations. "She's reaching for goals she shouldn't dare chase."

It wasn't customary to elevate a concubine to an equal footing with a wife, but there were precedents where a woman was recognized as the First Lady. The discussions around town about the new First Lady sparked fleeting dreams among women, only to see them quickly dashed.

In this scenario, Mr. Black's decision to grant shared rights among the women didn't simply offer symbolic hope; it marked a significant shift. 

In this city, regardless of their status, wives were seen only as companions—not in any autonomous sense. The position of female head of the household traditionally belonged solely to the First Lady—in theory. By redistributing these rights, the partners transitioned into partial female heads, a change bearing more weight than any mere title.

Mrs. Derby's and Mrs. Pure's homes rapidly became the social activity centers with this announcement.

Mrs. Pure, initially just a companion, never anticipated being elevated to such status. The unusual leap in rank, filled her first with elation and then with anxiety, robbing her of restful sleep. Meanwhile, Mrs. Derby, one of Mr. Black's earliest partners and still prominent after Lady Mary's downfall and Lady Helen's death, held expectations that others could not easily dismiss.

"Our madam has her head in the sand," Mrs. Pure sighed. "Doesn't she see what Madison House has turned into?"

Ever since, Mr. Black spent nights without exception at Madison House, sometimes multiple times a day, dining and sharing moments consistently, much to Mrs. Pure's unease.

"This town understands the fickle nature of love and power. Former aristocrats now do domestic chores—nothing lasts forever." She mumbled uncertainly, "What if he's genuinely in love?"

If this devotion was indeed real, it terrified every woman in town—it meant that one was favored above all while 2,999 others anxiously awaited.

Alas, it seemed to head in that direction.

On the day of the spring festival, the women gave their all in hopes of capturing attention. However, completely counter to expectations, despite Mrs. Derby’s flawless event, the man of the hour was absent from town.

That same morning, Mr. Black had taken Scarlett away from the town.

"It's spring; let's breathe in some fresh air," he suggested, disregarding the town’s festivities and focusing on freeing Scarlett from her cabin confines.

Happy to oblige, Scarlett dressed down casually and set off with him.

Spring provided the perfect excuse for a countryside picnic. The streets were filled with cheerful townsfolk, modestly dressed, their eyes bright. A wiry youth scampered past like a monkey, prompted by an irritated paternal yell.

Storefronts lined the pathways, their colored flags swaying in the breeze, mixing with the sugary scent of bakeries that ensnared young ones in syrupy wonder.

“There’s prosperity in the air,” Scarlett observed.

Black shook his head slightly. “Too early for such words. Unclaimed lands remain, the town still houses the homeless, and many perish further extremes. We've only just ensured basic needs—far from thriving.”

"It’s inevitable, simply a matter of time," she responded confidently.

“Spare me kindly, if you must,” Black allowed a rare smile to cross his lips.

As Scarlett's laughter wove with his, she noted her feelings towards Black had changed. Initially driven by curiosity, it evolved into infatuation—soon into intimacy. A surprisingly familiar yet novel journey for her.

Now, however, it was different.

In truth, Black wasn't an ideal lover. Despite professed exclusivity, his presence wasn’t constant, dominated by political concerns. He’d inquire about her day, meals, any disturbances, yet occasionally harbor resentment, craving her camaraderie.

Yet he never revolved around her as former suitors did, oddly putting her at ease.

Perhaps this honest interaction was genuine. Where previous relationships spun distorted exchanges, here lay pure enjoyment brought by affection itself—an affair favoring love over desire.

Black turned, catching her radiant gaze, an unstifled chuckle breaking through: “What’s the glance for?”

“Admiration. Am I not allowed to?” she teased with a smile.

“It’s permitted. Gaze endlessly,” Black returned the humor, “Let’s go view the flowers later.”

Scarlett’s grin widened, her gaze remained on him until his bashful acquiescence overwhelmed. She pointed towards a nearby shop: “What's that place?”

“It’s a theater,” Black explained, “Hosting plays.”

Scarlett’s curiosity piqued her interest, “Shall we see?”

“What harm?” Black took her sleeve, “Let’s.”

Unlike ordinary taverns or tea houses, the theater boasted higher-fenced rooms with restricted entrances. Inside, hawkers sold tickets—each color symbolizing different price tiers.

Black purchased two-red tokens, guiding Scarlett to a prime vantage on the second floor facing the stage.

Nestled down, a waiter presented tea and snacks, accompanied by a little slip showing the day's billing and today's cast.

“What play are they staging today?” Scarlett intrigued, asked on seeing the day’s script lapel.

Black deliberated, then responded thoughtfully: “The Tale of the Seeker.”

Scarlett felt an uncanny sensation echoing within.

The play commenced soon.

The plot opened with the protagonist failing to secure accolades from a city examination—though not for lack of effort. Corruption tainted outcomes, top ranks bought by richer bidders, while our hero stood resolute against moral compromise.

Disillusioned by deceitful politicking, the protagonist left cursing these affairs. On his return, fate crossed him with Lotus Fairy—a stunning figure upon water—he instantly awestruck, immortalizing her beauty through poetic homage.

The Fairy, equally captivated by promising youth, allowed their meeting to extend into intimate night embrace.

When dawn broke, the Fairy vanished, leaving our protagonist stranded by water's edge, eyes brimming unshed tears.

“Ah, sister—your distant silk robe’s wave-bound sway leaves my heart in riddles, tangled longing shared, spring accolades as naught compared to this celestial cocoon,” he lamented.

On stage, the youthful actor sang sweetly, emotionally stirring, moving the heart with his vivid performance.

Even Black was moved, casting furtive glances at Scarlett, pondering about the pointlessness of fictional emotions compared to tangible experiences—her unexpected appearance, casting folly into his life. Despite an ethereal background and forgotten past, fear echoed within that she might one day vanish like Lotus Fairy.

The tale unfolded further.

Our hero’s lake-side vigil bore no fruit—political disenchantment fueled his spiritual pursuit.

Embarking on divine ascent, he traversed renowned landscapes, sparing a mystical Fox Spirit. Soliciting her wisdom, she urged against it:

“Sir, this celestial journey charts no easy course. Mountains stretch endlessly, waves cease never. Climbing heaven's thousand steps leans upon stacked bones. Such roads—who knows from where lies Eden? Better cherish daylight, counting mornings with me.”

Yet determined, he pursued ambition entwined with love. The Fox, out of loyalty, disclosed passage—a ladder scaling skybound ninety-nine thousand meters—folk tales claimed climactic ascendance awaited those who aspired upwards.

Energized, he tackled the arduous climb. Nearing summits, fatigue overpowered, dangerously wobbling. Salvation arrived—the Fox herself—sacrificed to preserve him.

Her lifetime silent guardianship went unnavigated treasure. Vainly lost opportunities lay irrevocable.

Finally, he conquered this ascent, divine elevation granted, brow twilight embraced by Lotus in ethereal garden. Alas, charms unwavering fox, stalwart and timeless, was forever unforgivingly denied companionship.

Scarlett absorbed the narrative’s familiar resonance, echoes resonating with roses and foxes, white lilies. “Quite the imaginative playwright,” she remarked wryly. “If it were you, would you choose enduring love with a fox or persistently pursue the Fairy?”

Black sat pondering gently, “The protagonist was heart-bound by the fairy, not in love with the fox—plainly weighed. Yet consider…”

“What if?”

“If the Fairy returned his inclinations,” Black answered delicately, “Had she stayed? What more joyous outcome existed, two souls bonded like an ethereal legend’s connection?”

Scarlett captured his implication, a contented exhale escaped: “Preferring kind companionship over otherworldly pursuits, right?”

“Is divinity truly supreme?” Black questioned simply. “Accounts speak of ‘immortal’ beings—yet remain lustful, conniving—strikingly differing from mortals?”

Scarlett faltered for a moment.

“Scarlett, I hope you stay forever—whether blissful comforts or transcendent prestige, whatever life bestows, it’s willingly yours. My provision knows no limits—spiritual sanctum, shrines—however you desire. Someday if a child graces, I’d willingly yield everything. Even if a daughter arrives, challenges remain, passing legacy ensures none will dispute.”

Amidst harmony beneath theater’s discordant composition, each weighty proclamation interwove within Black’s every unsaid promise.

Pondering his earnestness, Scarlett found speech constrained. She understood weight behind Black’s avowal—calculation generously reasoned, never impulsive words deliberated meticulously.

No grander, soul-stirring promise exists. Lifelong bliss, impassioned devotion—determined ‘yes’ on her cusp granted joy unending.

But, if immortality eludes? Not all aspiring reach zenith. Perhaps so. Trials abound within mystic territories, perilous hardship breathing anew daily. Here resided youthful initiate amidst uncharted challenges; attaining far beyond previous lifetimes offerings.

In themselves lay sought-after lavish grandeur—achieved. Love anew—secured. What more did she crave?

Happiness unfolded for the taking, alongside an unpredicted future offering tough decisions sharply visible. As solitary acknowledgment lingered beneath her lips, but…

Remained unspoken.

“I need time to consider,” she deferred outwardly.

“Of course,” Black yielded patiently, “Life allows awaiting answer. That in itself warrants splendid response.”

Filling laughter between their exchange, Scarlett replied lightheartedly, “Painted an enthralling future.”

“Where sincerity triumphs, immensity unfurls. Oh, it might indeed,” he chuckled warmly.

Scarlett cleverly avoided direct response, gently diverted—“It’s late. We should return.”

Black dared not impose, respecting her assertion: “Right, next—lantern viewing awaits.”

Under dusky sky, festivalgoers swelled; nights lifted restrictions, careless freedom relishment. Trees adorned gloss lantern, distant shimmering akin celestial rivers gleamed.

From bridge height peers gathered, affixing sachets amongst branches, intricately compartmentalizing intimate desires.

In admiration stolen, Black proposed: “Fancy one?”

“Absolutely.”

From nearby vendor, they purchased ornate peony sachet; Black penned wishes upon vibrant paper, spiraled hidden inside.

Scarlett glimpsed fourteen characters, assuming poetic mystery—“What wish did you scribe?”

“It’s a secret,” Black jested trickily, elevated pouch high.

Scarlett threatened, “I’ll retrieve it for peek.”

“But these earthly characters confound you,” Black self-assuredly countered, nonchalant.

Laughing, “Consult others. Spill—or outskirts leave you wandering as I retreat.”

“Alright, alright, I confess,” conceding humorously, whereas they exchanged knowing glance, tender affection grew aired—“Finite life, boundless love, undying moonlight eternally outshines.”

Much later, recollections drifted lifelong, Scarlett remembered vividly—a singular episode amidst countless years, when her heart hardly lingered.

Choosing between endless life and transient delight, an enduring resolution settled.