Tan Yin couldn’t remember how long she had crouched by the lake. Slowly, the sky darkened, and the wind howled as it swept across the lake, scattering tiny snowflakes aimlessly.
The weather was changing again; perhaps it would start snowing soon.
She slowly pulled her gloves back on and took a lingering glance at the small pavilion. Would this be her last memory of Yuan Zhong? Her eyes swept over the snowy landscape of the little paradise they shared, finally resting on Yuan Xiaozhong's face—lost and full of confusion, as if he had something to say but couldn’t.
Tan Yin looked at him for a long time. His face was identical to Yuan Zhong’s—same beautiful eyes, same tightly pressed lips—but she could instantly tell who the real Yuan Zhong was. Only now did she realize how deeply she had etched him into her memory.
Should she say something more? While Yuan Zhong was asleep, she could tell Yuan Xiaozhong everything on her mind, ask him to relay the message later. That way, she wouldn’t have to see Yuan Zhong’s heartbroken expression firsthand, nor would she have to feel the pain of it.
Han Nu had been right—she did possess a heart capable of terrible things. Deceiving others, deluding herself, and, in the end, selfishly running away from it all. It was an ugliness she could hardly bear to face.
Tan Yin gave a bitter smile but said nothing. She turned and began walking slowly toward the portal.
Yuan Xiaozhong, seeing she was truly leaving, panicked. He looked around helplessly, scratching his head, unable to think of anything that might stop her. Then, in a moment of desperation, he slapped his thigh and threw himself forward, hugging her tightly. There were so many things he wanted to say! He couldn’t let her go just like this!
Caught off guard, Tan Yin lost her balance as he tackled her from behind, and they both tumbled into a snowbank. They rolled a good distance across the slippery ice on the lake, Yuan Xiaozhong wailing and shouting in her ear, leaving her dizzy and unable to react.
When she finally managed to get her bearings, she realized Yuan Xiaozhong was still clinging to her, dragging her along while screaming. The situation wasn’t looking good—there was a hole in the ice right ahead of them, and they were about to fall into the lake. She tried to stand up, but his grip was too strong, and the ice was too slippery to find any leverage.
Tan Yin's eyes glowed faintly, and a wall of ice suddenly rose up in front of them. Yuan Xiaozhong crashed into it with a loud thud, and she wasn’t sure if he had broken anything. When she stood up, she saw deep cracks running through the thick ice wall. What kind of brute strength is that?
Yuan Xiaozhong lay under the ice wall, rolling around and groaning. “My spine is broken! It hurts so much! Oh, it hurts!”
Tan Yin couldn’t help but laugh. An automaton that can feel pain?
Yuan Xiaozhong crawled over and grabbed her leg, his cries more pitiful than a woman in labor. “Master! I’m in so much pain! Don’t leave me! If you leave, I won’t be able to live anymore!”
As he continued to roll around in the snow, he sneaked a glance at her. She was covered in snow, her hair disheveled, and the pearl hairpin hung awkwardly from her ear. She looked utterly bedraggled. Ashamed, Yuan Xiaozhong lowered his head and pressed his face to her foot, continuing his wails of misery. “Don’t go! Please don’t go!”
A gentle hand rested on his shoulder, and his piercing screams abruptly stopped. He stared blankly at Tan Yin as she knelt beside him, inspecting his body to see if any parts had been damaged. She squeezed his shoulders, patted his back, and finally smoothed out his tangled, snow-covered hair. With a faint smile, she said, “Nothing’s broken. You can walk.”
Yuan Xiaozhong felt as if he might shed mechanical tears. He gripped her hand tightly, pleading, “Don’t go, please?”
He looked exactly like Yuan Zhong, and at that moment, the black gem-like eyes seemed to hold Yuan Zhong’s very soul. For a brief second, Tan Yin almost believed it was him. His pleading expression made her tremble. The cold wind howled across the lake, and she felt a chill seep into her bones, freezing her throat.
Suddenly, the divine power in her forehead flickered. She knew it was because Yuan Zhong’s emotions were stirring. She had left a mark on him—a sign of her hesitation, her failure to leave things cleanly. She always seemed to ruin everything. She had descended to find Tai He’s left hand and failed. She had promised to stay with Yuan Zhong for life, yet now she was leaving him.
She had thought that becoming a goddess meant she would no longer make mistakes, but every mistake seemed worse than the last. And now, like a coward, she was trying to flee. But why leave a mark behind? What was the point?
She didn’t know what she was doing anymore.
The divine power on her forehead pulsed wildly. What was Yuan Zhong dreaming about? Was he back on that high platform? She could feel the surge of emotion that wasn’t hers—intense and sorrowful, his feelings for her always tinged with sadness. Was he afraid it was all just a dream?
Yuan Xiaozhong saw her lost in thought and, sensing she might not be so determined to leave, quickly got up. Keeping a tight hold on her sleeve, he hoped to stop her by simply staying close.
Then she moved. She turned and slowly walked back toward the pavilion. Yuan Xiaozhong’s grip on her sleeve slipped away like water, and he couldn’t hold on. He took a step forward to say something, but the look on her face stopped him. He froze, watching as she stepped onto the shore, entered the pavilion, and didn’t come out again.
Meanwhile, Yuan Zhong was indeed dreaming, but not of the high platform from three cycles of time ago.
He wandered through a forest of blossoming trees, branches heavy with flowers. He knew he was searching for someone, but he couldn’t remember what she looked like or who she even was.
A warm spring breeze brushed against Yuan Zhong’s face, carrying with it soft, gentle scents. Instinctively, he quickened his pace, but the branches of blossoming flowers—interwoven and chaotic—blocked his view. She was just ahead, but he couldn’t see her.
Raising his hand, he parted a tree full of shimmering pear blossoms, and suddenly, a cold, clear voice spoke behind him: “Yuan Zhong.”
He whirled around, and the endless sea of flowers disintegrated into powder. Countless red and white petals rained down like a shower, and there, in front of him, stood the goddess in white. Her black gem-like eyes avoided his gaze, her head lowered like a wounded deer.
Yuan Zhong strode quickly toward her, her name on the tip of his tongue—“Tan Yin.”
He grasped her hand, but she was wearing gloves, her fingertips shrinking back, as though trying to escape his touch.
Loosening his grip, he instead took hold of her wrist, pulling her delicate figure into his arms. She felt fragile, as if made of glass, yet her presence was gentle and comforting.
She was speaking, her voice soft: “If I leave, what will you do?”
An overwhelming sense of dread filled him. “...Why would you leave?”
“And if I really do go?” She lifted her head, and for the first time, she didn’t avoid his gaze. She had never looked at him so directly before.
Yuan Zhong smiled faintly. “I’ll come find you.”
She shook her head. “What if by then you’ve already forgotten me?”
“I won’t forget,” he said quietly. “I’ll never forget.”
The person in his arms was growing thinner. He looked down in shock, realizing it felt as if he was holding nothing but an empty garment. Her body dissolved into golden light, swirling away in pieces, while the white clothing in his hands slipped through his fingers like water.
Yuan Zhong woke with a start, cold sweat soaking his body. Just a dream? He sat up abruptly, as if struck by lightning, and there she was—Tan Yin—sitting at the bedside, her hair unbound, cascading down her back. She was watching him silently.
Without a word, he reached out, pulling her roughly into his arms. Her thin, real body was warm, solid, and soft, a stark contrast to the nightmare he’d just had. Confusion and lingering fear from the dream gripped his heart, and he ran his hands repeatedly along her slender back, murmuring, “You’re still here…”
Tan Yin gently combed through his long hair, her voice soft. “Had a nightmare?”
He shook his head but didn’t say anything.
The window was tightly shut, and outside, the sky was dark and somber. The wind howled like the cries of ghosts. It was snowing again. Tan Yin carefully smoothed his hair, and just then, she felt a lightness at her ear—the pearl hairpin that had been there was now in his hand.
“Why is your hair such a mess?” he chuckled. His little goddess, usually pristine in white with her hair neatly styled, looked so different now with her tousled locks. It had startled him.
He undid her hair completely, running his fingers through the strands, gently combing them. She wore no other ornaments, and even her hairpin was simple—a plain silver pin set with a thumb-sized pearl.
With a flick of his finger, the drawer of the bedside table opened silently, revealing several vermilion-colored boxes. The largest box opened to reveal a smaller lacquered case within.
Inside the case, lined with purple velvet, was a white-gold hairpin shaped like a flower, inlaid with a few amethysts. It wasn’t overly extravagant, but its craftsmanship was exquisite. Yuan Zhong took it out and placed Tan Yin’s pearl hairpin inside the box.
“This one’s mine now,” he laughed quietly.
Awkwardly, he gathered her hair and styled it into a bun, securing it with the amethyst hairpin. After examining her for a moment, he nodded in satisfaction. “I’m trading yours for this one.”
Tan Yin couldn’t help but laugh at his childlike playfulness. She teased, “That pearl is worth a lot, you know—it’s a thousand-year-old gem from a deep-sea clam spirit.”
Yuan Zhong kissed her forehead, smiling. “Then I guess I got quite the bargain today.”
Just as Tan Yin was about to respond, a loud, thunderous noise came from the portal. Yuan Xiaozhong’s voice shrieked from outside, “S-someone’s smashing the gate again! Master! Dazhong! It’s gotta be those red-eyed guys!”
Tan Yin froze for a moment. Yuan Zhong gently patted her shoulder to reassure her. “It’s fine, don’t worry. They’re not breaking in—it’s just a message being delivered.”
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