Was it a dream? Or not a dream?
Yuan Zhong stared, entranced, at his goddess. She hadn’t concealed her divine aura, and a soft, clear light surrounded her, making her look like a small moon amidst the vast snowy landscape.
Her facial features were entirely different from the face of the mortal girl she once inhabited. She had long eyebrows and a rounded forehead, with delicate and graceful features. She looked even younger than the 17-year-old mortal girl from before, but her cold and ethereal aura was more pronounced, making her seem untouchable. Yet, her eyes hadn’t changed—those same eyes, burning with a deep and intense flame of focus.
Sixty years of time flashed past his mind like a rushing river, so vividly that he thought he could hear its flow.
Should he kneel and kiss her snow-white shoes? Or confess to her the reverence and longing he felt for the gods?
Suddenly, he moved. Slowly, he began walking toward her, just like in the dream. He reached out his hand.
She hesitated for a moment but then extended her hand as well. Surprisingly, she was wearing white gloves. As their fingertips touched, Yuan Zhong suddenly tightened his grip—she was real, with bones and flesh. Her soft palm curled slightly in his, and even through the thin, silk-like gloves, he could feel the warmth of her skin.
He lowered his head, bewildered and filled with fervor, countless words bubbling in his heart. Yet in the end, he only smiled and softly asked, “Why are you wearing gloves now?”
Tan Yin hesitated for a long time before finally replying, “Because… it’s cold.”
“What a terrible excuse,” he chuckled.
Not wanting to dwell on the topic, Tan Yin raised her hand and touched the awkward automaton behind Yuan Zhong. Looking at its clumsy, comical features, she couldn’t help but smile.
“This... isn’t very well-made,” Yuan Zhong admitted with rare embarrassment. “Don’t laugh.”
“I really like it,” Tan Yin said gently, adjusting the crooked bun on its head.
“...Really?”
She nodded sincerely. “Really.”
Yuan Zhong let go of the automaton’s hand, and it continued clumsily walking toward the shore. Its wooden feet crunched loudly on the ice and snow, moving awkwardly but quickly, leaving a trail of footprints behind in the blink of an eye.
“Let’s go back too,” he said, smiling strangely before suddenly spreading his arms and lifting her up. He gave her a playful bounce, then raised her high. Her soft, cold hair brushed against his cheek, and the familiar scent he cherished so much enveloped him.
Yuan Zhong looked up at her still-stunned face and squinted. “Hmm... goddesses do seem a bit heavier.”
Tan Yin stammered in shock, “Then-then why, why are you, you still carrying, carrying me…?”
He answered seriously, “You don’t understand. This is how our Youhu clan greets the gods.”
Obviously lying, Tan Yin eyed him suspiciously, seeing the mock seriousness on his face and the lively sparkle in his beautiful eyes. Somehow, she ended up laughing instead.
“Alright, let’s go back!” Yuan Zhong tightened his hold around her waist, carrying her slowly back to the small building. He might have carried her all the way upstairs if not for Yuan Xiaozhong’s broken body blocking the way.
“Yuan Dazhong, you heartless fiend! How dare you bring a woman home?! How can you face our master?!” Yuan Xiaozhong, with his broken arm and leg, was left with only his torso and head, glaring furiously at the couple.
Tan Yin, seeing his pitiful state, quickly jumped down to retrieve his arm and leg, which had fallen by the door. But when she touched them, her hands were covered in sticky glue. She looked back at Yuan Zhong in surprise, who shrugged, “His craftsmanship is too advanced for me. I could only glue him back together.”
“Let go of my arms and legs! You wicked woman! You, you, you… huh?” Yuan Xiaozhong’s indignant shouting suddenly stopped. He stared suspiciously at the tools hanging from Tan Yin’s waist. From her Qiankun bag, she took out tools that looked all too familiar to him—wooden mallets, rivets, bronze rods, and even a piece of the millennia-old camphor wood used to construct his body.
As he watched her skillfully fill in the missing parts of his hands and feet with camphor wood, then use rivets to reconnect them to his body, Yuan Xiaozhong’s wooden jaw nearly dropped. He gaped as she straightened his head and gave it a few good twists to ensure it was secure. When his head finally stopped spinning, he was overjoyed to find it back in its proper place!
“Try walking a few steps,” Tan Yin said with a gentle smile, putting away the tools in her Qiankun bag.
Yuan Xiaozhong threw his arms around her, screaming, “Why am I an automaton?! Ah, I’m made of wood and I can’t cry! But I really want to cry right now! Master!”
Yuan Zhong, annoyed, kicked him aside and dragged Tan Yin upstairs, grumbling, “Can’t you replace his face?! Next time, cover it with a cloth!”
When they reached the third floor, they saw the automaton Yuan Zhong had made standing by the door to his bedroom. The snow on its feet had melted, leaving a large puddle on the floor. The door was closed, and the automaton was unable to enter. It kept moving forward in its clumsy, repetitive way, pressing itself against the door.
Yuan Zhong removed the enchantment from the door, and the automaton immediately rushed inside, stumbling around the room for a while before finally coming to a complete stop.
Yuan Zhong cleared his throat and smiled at Tan Yin. "I gave it a name too—Xiao Erji."
Xiao Erji... Tan Yin couldn't help but think back to when she first met him. Back then, this suspicious, cold-hearted monk mockingly called her Xiao Ji (little chicken). He was far from likable at the time, hiding behind countless false masks. On the surface, he was all smiles, but inside, his heart was colder than ice.
At that time, she had been too proud of her status as a goddess to pay attention to his feelings or suspicions. Their relationship had been truly awful.
As Tan Yin recalled those early days, she smiled, feeling a surge of playfulness. She politely bowed and said, “Yes, my lord monk.”
He put on a stern face and grabbed her arm. “Bold servant! I command you to come to my room and teach me how to make Xiao Erji more beautiful. You are not allowed to refuse.”
Thankfully, his craftsmanship was poor, leaving plenty of room for improvement on Xiao Erji. However, he wouldn’t let Tan Yin fix it herself—he insisted on doing it with his own hands. She had no choice but to carve pieces of wood into the shape of a human head, showing him, step by step, how to make the facial features more refined.
In what felt like the blink of an eye, the night passed. By the time the first rays of morning sunlight streamed through the window lattice, Xiao Erji’s face had become much more beautiful. Although it was still somewhat rough, at first glance, it now bore a striking resemblance to Tan Yin’s current features, about 60-70% accurate.
Yuan Zhong still held the carving knife in his hand, but he had fallen asleep on the wooden table. Despite being an immortal, it was clear that these past days had not been restful for him. Faint dark circles had even formed beneath his eyes. In his sleep, he looked like a child, his lips slightly pouting in innocence, and his long, thick eyelashes trembling slightly as if he were dreaming. He clutched the carving knife tightly in his hand.
Tan Yin crouched in front of him, carefully observing his face. He looked completely different from Tai He. Tai He had gentle, almost delicate features and a constant, easy smile. Yuan Zhong’s face, on the other hand, was cold and distant at first glance, making him seem unapproachable. But his eyes were soft, with a seductive upward tilt. Initially, those beautiful eyes were filled with coldness, but later, as the ice melted, they began to carry warmth and joy, shining brightly.
Tan Yin coughed softly, stood up, and gently covered him with a blanket. He stirred slightly but didn’t wake.
She blew a soft breath, and the curtains silently fell, blocking out the glaring morning light reflected by the snow. The room fell into quiet stillness, broken only by Yuan Zhong’s gentle breathing.
Tan Yin slowly sat on the floor, leaning against the wall. In this moment, she didn’t feel lonely. At least Yuan Zhong was beside her.
She removed her gloves, revealing fingertips that had already turned into translucent fragments of light. There was no miracle—her semi-transparent fingertips hadn’t returned to normal. She hadn’t been mistaken; her divine body was indeed beginning to fall apart.
Exhausted, she put her gloves back on and rummaged in her Qiankun bag for a moment, retrieving the box containing the divine crystal. She hesitated for a long time before putting it back.
Thick fog clouded her mind. Tan Yin felt as though she was desperately searching for something, her heart burning with anxiety, but she couldn’t see anything. All she could do was keep running.
Suddenly, a red light flared in front of her. Han Nü, who had fallen into demonhood, appeared, towering over her. In her left hand, she held a flawless, transparent divine crystal, within which Tai He slept peacefully.
“Wu Shuang, Tai He is mine now,” Han Nü said, her blood-red eyes fixed on Tan Yin, her voice gentle. “His left hand will never return. If I want him to die, he will die.”
Tan Yin opened her mouth, wanting to speak, but found that no sound would come out.
She watched in horror as Han Nü crushed the divine crystal in her hand, and Tai He’s body crumbled into dust.
Han Nü’s right hand suddenly reached out, and in her palm was Yuan Zhong, seemingly fast asleep, showing no signs of waking.
“This lowly immortal from the mortal realm—dying by my hand is his greatest honor,” Han Nü said, closing her enormous hand. Yuan Zhong’s body disintegrated into powder.
Tan Yin’s entire body trembled. She wanted to summon her divine power to stop Han Nü’s madness, but to her horror, she found that she couldn’t move. She looked down and saw that her own body had turned into translucent fragments, blown away by the wind.
Han Nü laughed maniacally, “Wu Shuang! Your human tribulation has arrived! You won’t survive it! Your soul will be scattered!”
Tan Yin suddenly woke up, drenched in cold sweat. She was back in her divine body, but she was still capable of dreaming—was it because her body was beginning to fall apart?
She gasped for breath, looking around in confusion. She was still in Yuan Zhong’s room, the light dim, and Yuan Zhong was still fast asleep at the wooden table, breathing peacefully.
She couldn’t help but shiver, feeling ice-cold, curling herself into a ball.
A human tribulation… she was certain she had heard those words before. She also knew she had seen Han Nü’s demonic form, but she couldn’t remember where. It was as if her memory had been deliberately obscured, leaving her powerless.
Her human tribulation… Tan Yin was too weary to think any further. Listening to Yuan Zhong’s soft, sweet breathing, she slowly closed her eyes again.
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