The Moon Without a Heart

Spring rain was as precious as oil.

I carried my sword and a bottle of wine, heading to the bridge to shelter from the rain, only to find someone fishing there.

The man sat there calmly, draped in a snow-white cloak. His loose hair flowed over his shoulders, and the wide-brimmed hat he wore cast a shadow over half his face, leaving only his sharply chiseled jaw exposed.

"No hook, no bait. How do you expect to catch any fish?" I asked.

The man remained silent.

Sensing the conversation was going nowhere, I stopped talking.

The rain poured down steadily. I glanced at the man, calculated the time, and pulled out a broken jade pendant from my pocket, tossing it to him.

Without looking up, he caught it effortlessly.

"Here, half a jade pendant for one of your hats."

I casually picked up one of the hats lying at his feet, put it on, and walked away with ease.

I didn't look back, but I could feel his intense gaze on my back.

Ripples spread across the river, but they weren't from the rain hitting the water.

They were from a fish taking the bait.