She carefully sealed the box and placed it back in her Qiankun bag.
“All done. Try using your hand now. See if it works like before.” Tan Yin’s face glowed with pride, her eyes sparkling with the satisfaction of a true craftsman.
Yuan Zhong held up his dark red left hand, clenching and unclenching it. After a long pause, he murmured, “...Yes, it feels the same as before.”
Tan Yin shook her head. “Try summoning the ice.”
He lowered his hand from his forehead and chuckled lightly. “That only works on people.”
She pointed at herself. “Use it on me. Try.”
He looked at her, his eyes full of amusement. He slowly raised his left hand, moving it toward the top of her head. But instead of a surge of red light, his hand gently rested on her hair, smoothing down her soft strands, finally settling on the back of her head.
He leaned in as if to embrace her, his lips stopping just three inches from her ear.
“But suddenly…” he paused, his voice soft. Suddenly, he didn’t want to. He couldn't bring himself to.
Staring at her long, silky black hair draping down her neck, he felt an overwhelming urge—to kneel at her feet, to beg for her forgiveness, to kiss her shoes with reverence. At the same time, another impulse surged within him, to crush this false appearance she wore, to reveal her true face beneath.
Was it really her? Or wasn’t it? He didn’t know, couldn’t trust anything. Everything about her was so elusive, like a mirage.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he sensed the passage of time again. It was as if the hourglass that had been stuck for so long had finally begun to flow. Time had stopped for him three cycles ago on Gui Xuan Terrace, and now, little by little, it was moving again. All those years spent in restless nights and tasteless days seemed to fade away.
Was this freedom? Or pure joy? He wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was all just an illusion.
Tan Yin, perplexed, watched as he withdrew his hand and stood up. She saw him pull his black silk glove back over his left hand, stretch lazily, then turn to her with a smile. “You said earlier that this stuff is Divine Crystal. You recognize it?”
A moment ago, his face had been full of things left unsaid. But in the blink of an eye, it was as if that vanished. Were men always this unpredictable?
“Yes, I recognize it. It’s a rare material,” she answered honestly. “But this is the lowest-grade type. If they had used higher-grade Divine Crystal, it would’ve taken me two or three days to remove it.”
Yuan Zhong rolled his eyes playfully, then asked with a smile, “Divine Crystal... is it something from the gods?”
Tan Yin opened her mouth, ready to respond, but then, as if realizing something, she quickly shook her head. “No, it comes from the far western barren mountains.”
...Clearly, no one had ever taught her how to lie convincingly.
Yuan Zhong, uninterested in exposing her fib, pushed open the window and looked out at the bustling street below. Due to the appearance of the god the previous night, Yandu was swarming with immortals and demons. Even many mortals from nearby counties had flocked here for a glimpse of the commotion. Everyone was talking about the god and wondering who the god had been calling for when they mentioned “Wu Shuang.” Some immortals had even started taking disciples in the street, claiming that anyone born in Yandu with the name “Wu Shuang” might have a divine connection.
He watched for a while, then turned back to her and said, “It’s time to leave Yandu.”
Tan Yin, who had been about to pull out her materials to finish crafting the Good Luck Mirrors, froze. “Uh... But I haven’t sold all the mirrors yet. I... I haven’t made much money…”
Yuan Zhong smiled as he pulled a small, bulging pouch from his robe and opened it, revealing it was full of her Good Luck Mirrors.
“What do you mean you haven’t made much? I bought them all—one hundred taels each, fair and square.”
He pulled out one of the mirrors and held it up to her face. Through the mirror, her face looked enormous, like a giant pumpkin, her wide eyes blinking foolishly.
But something was different.
Yuan Zhong suddenly noticed that her forehead was no longer blank. When he used the mirror on immortals, the word “仙” (immortal) would appear on their foreheads. For mortals, the word “人” (human) would appear, and for demons, it would be “妖” (demon).
On Tan Yin’s forehead, the word was unclear, shrouded in a foggy mist, impossible to make out.
“Where will we go after leaving Yandu?” she asked, unaware of the strange revelation.
Yuan Zhong quietly put the mirror away, smiling. “We’re going home. I still owe Lord Meishan two jars of Drunken Dream, and it’s time I settled that debt.”
Tan Yin was a little surprised. Hadn’t he once said he wouldn’t return to Fangwai Mountain? So, he had decided to go back after all?
Seeing the question in her eyes, Yuan Zhong shook his head. “Not Fangwai Mountain. I have my own place near Wanlan Mountain, a cave I’ve cultivated myself.”
He stared at her gemstone-like black eyes, holding back for as long as he could. But in the end, he couldn’t help himself. Slowly, he approached her, clasped his hands together as if about to bow, but hesitated. He couldn’t quite believe it. Finally, in an awkward pose, he sighed and asked, “You... you’re going to keep following me, aren’t you?”
Tan Yin nodded without hesitation. “Yes, I will.”
“Always? Always follow me?”
“Yes.”
“Really? Always, always, always?”
Sensing something strange in his tone, Tan Yin cautiously looked up at him. Yuan Zhong was leaning against the window, arms crossed, his eyes fixed intently on her with a mix of focus and nervousness, as if afraid he might miss even the tiniest shift in her expression.
“...Yes,” she murmured. “Will you allow it?”
Was he planning to run off again?
Yuan Zhong touched his nose, lowered his head, and after a long pause, finally spoke softly. “Then stay with me forever. Don’t go. You’re not allowed to leave.”
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