She had known in his dreams too—an innocent youth on the high platform, with slender hands and a focused gaze. Her one descent to the mortal world, merely to confirm the location of Tai He’s left hand, had been for him three cycles of sixty years, years of restless sleep and tasteless meals.
But… even knowing all of that, what could she do? Tan Yin averted her gaze, pretending not to care.
A voice in her heart quietly retorted: Then why are you staying by his side? Why did you appear before him in your divine body? Can you tell him that your real reason is to wait for him to die? If you did, wouldn’t you be afraid?
Yes, she was afraid. Afraid that he would truly be heartbroken, but even more terrified that he might leave her. Yuan Zhong always told her not to leave him, but in reality, the one who was truly scared was her. She didn’t want to think about why she was afraid, because it wouldn’t change anything. All she could do was avoid it. Their existences were on different levels, so why not let him live a life of satisfaction? Besides, her body was already beginning to crumble...
“If I pretend to forget my ultimate goal, he and I can have an incredibly happy life together,” the voice inside her heart whispered.
Tan Yin looked up, and saw Yuan Zhong approaching her with a painting in his hands. With just a few strokes, he had painted snow, mountains, plum trees, and a graceful woman, all seemingly coming to life on the page.
“How’s the painting?” Yuan Zhong asked with a playful smile.
Tan Yin nodded slowly. “It’s beautiful.”
He rolled up the painting and tied it with a red silk ribbon, swinging it lightly. “Let’s hang it above the bed.”
Tan Yin couldn’t help but laugh. “Why hang it above the bed?”
He winked mischievously. “To ward off evil spirits—it’s a painting of a goddess, after all!”
This sly fox spirit, always evasive, never revealing his true feelings. Instead, he masked his emotions with humor, carefully guarding his pride.
Tan Yin could only laugh, bending down to pick up the wooden figures she had been working on. Suddenly, Xiao Erji, the automaton, began acting up again. After spinning in circles just fine, it suddenly flung its arms out like windmill blades, spinning wildly. Yuan Zhong, who was standing too close, was smacked hard on the back several times, the sound echoing loudly.
“Ow! That hurts!” he exclaimed exaggeratedly, stumbling into Tan Yin.
She quickly stood up to steady him, but he spread his arms and pulled her into an embrace, continuing his exaggerated groans. “It hurts so much! I think I pulled something!”
That’s so fake! Tan Yin thought, torn between laughter and tears as she stood stiffly in his arms. She awkwardly poked his side with one finger. “...Feeling better?”
He held her tighter, his voice muffled, “Just a little longer.”
Tan Yin felt like a wooden post, her arms hanging limply at her sides as her head and shoulders were pressed tightly against his chest. Her cheek rested against him, and she could smell that familiar, subtle fragrance that clung to him. His breath was steady but hot, tickling her ear, causing it to burn with heat.
She managed to whisper, “Let… let go…”
His voice dropped lower. “If you don’t want this, then break free. Push me away.”
As a goddess, it would be effortless for her to break free. She wouldn’t even need to struggle. But… did she really want to break free? She could already imagine the expression on his face if she did, the sadness and disappointment that would fill those beautiful eyes. She didn’t want to see that.
Tan Yin felt every inch of her skin tingling. Should she push him away? No, she didn’t want to. She didn’t want even a single finger to leave his embrace. She stood there rigidly, held tightly in his arms in that strange position for a long, long time, unmoving.
Yuan Zhong whispered in her ear, his voice filled with passion, “I know you won’t push me away. You like me, don’t you? You just don’t want to admit it.”
You like me, you don’t want to say it. He had said the same words in his dream.
Tan Yin smiled faintly, neither nodding nor shaking her head. That same soul-burning pain began to spread within her—she was already starting to fade, so why couldn’t she admit it? She didn’t want her soul to vanish in lonely oblivion. She wanted to be with him, no matter what her original purpose had been.
Slowly, tentatively, she lifted her hand, almost shyly, and gently wrapped it around his waist.
Yuan Zhong let out a soft, almost agonized sigh. He lowered his head, his warm, trembling lips falling clumsily onto her cool ones. He was shaking from head to toe, even his lips trembling against hers.
Or maybe it was her who was trembling. The searing pain coursed through her limbs, as if burning her soul from within. She felt as if something had fallen away inside her, leaving her alternately hot and cold. The only thing she could feel was his lips—so hot, she didn’t know how to react.
“I love you…” His voice was hurried, almost a whisper, as he kissed her face, boldly and fervently confessing his feelings. “I love you.”
Tan Yin kept her eyes tightly closed as his frantic, clumsy lips finally settled on her forehead. He held the back of her head gently, pulling her closer into his embrace. The sound of the wind whistled softly in their ears, while Xiao Erji continued its erratic spinning on the snow, making the ground creak under its feet. Yuan Xiaozhong was hiding somewhere, leaving only the two of them in this quiet world.
Slowly, Tan Yin opened her eyes and began to pull off the glove from her right hand, finger by finger. She could see clearly now—her right hand, which had previously only been transparent at the fingertips, now had half its palm turning into shimmering light fragments.
Fear gripped her, and she hastily pulled the glove back on, her vision blurring as tears streamed down her face.
Her tribulation—she realized now—this place, this person, was her human tribulation.
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