Last time, he had cut meat from the old turtle and ruthlessly slaughtered two celestial cranes, only to be scolded harshly by Yuan Zhong. Since then, he hadn’t dared to act recklessly. Meat was out of the question now, and even the fish in the lake might turn out to be some rare celestial species, so he wasn’t going to risk it.
Yuan Xiaozhong rummaged around and found a few large white radishes. He filled a basin with water and began washing them. Just as he started peeling them, he noticed Tan Yin walking out of the small building. Strange, hadn’t she just gone in? Could Dazhong be finished so quickly? Disgraceful! No wonder she looked so downcast when she came out! Wait… was she crying?
He quickly dropped the radishes and rushed over, shouting, “Master, what’s wrong?”
Something wasn’t right. Master looked very off. Even though he was calling out loudly, she didn’t seem to hear him—or rather, she wasn’t responding at all. She seemed completely lost, like her soul had left her body.
Yuan Xiaozhong abruptly stopped, confused, and glanced back at the small building. The door was open, but there was no sign of Dazhong. Turning back, he saw Tan Yin standing by the lake, her head bowed, lost in thought.
“Master...” Yuan Xiaozhong cautiously approached her. This time, Tan Yin noticed him and turned to smile softly. “You found me.”
There was something off in her words, and Yuan Xiaozhong immediately panicked. “Master, what’s wrong? Did Dazhong… did he hurt you or something?”
Tan Yin’s smile remained calm. “He’s asleep. I used a little divine power. He won’t wake up until tomorrow. If he wasn’t asleep, I wouldn’t be able to leave.”
Yuan Xiaozhong was truly shocked. “Leave?! What do you mean?!”
Tan Yin didn’t answer. She lowered her head, staring at her white-gloved hands for a long while.
“I’ll find a place to seal my body and borrow a mortal’s body to return,” she said, offering a comforting smile. “I’ll be back soon.”
Yuan Xiaozhong shook his head suddenly. “You’re lying. I can tell. You’re not coming back.”
Tan Yin fell silent.
With a rare look of disdain, Yuan Xiaozhong said, “You’re not even good at lying. Even I, a mere automaton, can tell.”
She couldn’t argue with him. She gave a wry, bitter smile.
“If you leave, Dazhong will go mad,” Yuan Xiaozhong said, this time in an unusually serious tone. “I don’t want to see him like that all the time. Besides, why would you leave? Has he not been good to you? Or is it because you’re a lofty goddess and you think he’s beneath you, so you’re cutting it short now rather than suffering later…”
Tan Yin sighed and interrupted him. “Yuan Xiaozhong, you seem to know quite a lot… but it’s not what you think.”
“Don’t underestimate me just because I’m an automaton!” Yuan Xiaozhong huffed. “If it’s not like I think, then what is it?”
He stared at Tan Yin, expecting her to show some guilt or sadness. But she didn’t. Instead, she gazed into the distance, lost in thought, and then a few tears rolled down her cheeks. She quickly wiped them away, harshly.
Yuan Xiaozhong became flustered. Despite all his cleverness, he was still just an automaton. He didn’t understand human emotions, and now, seeing Tan Yin cry, all the words he had prepared vanished. He stood there awkwardly, searching his clothes for something to help wipe her tears, but found nothing.
“What… what’s really going on?” he mumbled, genuinely confused.
Tan Yin didn’t understand either. Everything had seemed so simple at first. She had descended to the mortal realm to retrieve Tai He’s left hand. To avoid disrupting the flow of fate, she had resolved to stay with that hand until Yuan Zhong naturally passed away.
But why was she bleeding? Why was she crying? She had thought that she had experienced everything with Tai He—silent longing, heartbreak, and retreating into herself. Yet none of the past pain compared to what she felt now. Guilt, regret, and every negative emotion she had never felt before overwhelmed her. But in the end, she had come back to Yuan Zhong’s side.
If they could spend a lifetime together without her revealing the truth, he would be happy. And so would she. Wouldn’t that be better?
It felt as though she was a thief with malicious intent, cruelly deceiving him and herself. Her tribulation had begun the moment she realized she couldn’t leave him. It was karma.
She could, of course, do what she had told Yuan Xiaozhong—find a place to seal her body in the divine crystal and then possess a mortal body, continuing the happy pretense. But seeing what had happened to Han Nu made her realize that sealing herself in the divine crystal wouldn’t stop her tribulation. Her self-deception would only hasten her demise.
The best choice would be to leave, to abandon her quest for Tai He’s left hand. She should return to the godly realm, return to the cold halls of the Wu Shuang Palace, and bury herself in her craft for a thousand, two thousand years, until she had forgotten everything. Perhaps, in time, her tribulation would pass peacefully.
But what about Yuan Zhong? How would he wait for her? Until his immortal life came to an end? Or until Han Nu killed him, leaving him to face the truth in despair?
She couldn’t forget the dream—the high platform, the young boy holding her hand, so certain, yet so heartbroken. He had said, You like me, you just don’t want to say it.
And then, covered in blood, leaning against her shoulder, proud yet timid, brushing her hair aside, he had asked, Silly girl, do you like me?
Yes, yes. I like you, Yuan Zhong. I love you, without even realizing it.
Tan Yin clung to a willow tree, slowly crouching down as sobs overcame her. She cried so hard that she couldn’t stand.
At last, she understood what the soul-burning pain was—it was her tribulation. The human tribulation was devouring her body. Desperately, she pulled off her glove and watched helplessly as her entire right hand gradually turned into transparent light fragments. She could do nothing to stop it. All she could do was watch in despair.
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