The sky was a blend of pitch-black and blood-red, the ground covered in flames, with the stench of blood and smoke so thick it made one want to vomit.
Tan Yin lay quietly in the sea of fire, unmoving. She had been lying there for a long time, her body gravely injured by a demonic weapon. Thick divine power, transformed into golden particles, poured from her wounds, only to be swallowed by this strange and boundless world.
This was a miniature world created by Han Nü's embroidered tapestry, where all the rules were dictated by her. Now, this world was greedily devouring Tan Yin’s divine power.
In a daze, Tan Yin felt as if her consciousness was in a perpetual state of confusion. She couldn’t even clearly remember why she was here. Instinctively, she compressed her divine power to the smallest extent, slowly trying to heal the wound in her abdomen. But the wound, inflicted by a demonic weapon, resisted the divine power. She had lain there for a long time, managing only to barely close the surface of the wound, preventing further divine power from spilling out.
Glowing sparks of fire rained down like drops of water, one landing on her body, instantly corroding a small hole through her skin. Divine power seeped from the hole, only to be hungrily consumed by the world around her.
Tan Yin closed her eyes, trying to recall how all this had come to pass. She remembered going to Xiangqu Mountain with someone to attend the Celestial Flower and Wine Festival. But with whom? And why? She couldn’t remember. This person, who should have been the most important to her, was now lost to her memory. And then, who had she met afterward? That person… their presence had a divine aura so familiar to her—it was Tai He’s.
Tai He? Tai He.
The world seemed to respond to her thoughts. In an instant, the black-and-red sky collapsed, and everything before her twisted and shattered. Suddenly, the scene shifted, and it felt as if she had returned to the banks of the Celestial River. The river sparkled brilliantly under the stars. Tan Yin looked around in confusion, seeing Tai He’s Hall nearby. Yes, Tai He’s body was sealed in the divine crystal. She had to check on him.
She turned and slowly walked toward Tai He’s Hall. In the center of the grand hall stood a massive divine crystal, with Tai He peacefully asleep inside, his arms crossed over his chest. Tan Yin stared at his two intact hands, feeling an odd sense that something was wrong, though she couldn’t place what it was.
She approached the divine crystal, her hand gently caressing the cold surface. Suddenly, a cracking sound erupted from beneath her palm. Horrified, Tan Yin watched as the crystal began to crack where she had touched it, shattering like fragile glass.
Tai He’s body fell from the broken crystal, but in an instant, it dissolved into golden fragments, scattering through the air like rain, falling onto Tan Yin’s hair and shoulders.
She was stunned. In that moment, countless memories she had forgotten came flooding back. Han Nü’s soft voice echoed from all directions.
“How cruel you are, Wu Shuang. You’ve shattered Tai He.”
Tan Yin unleashed her divine power, countless fine streams of energy shooting out like arrows toward the void. But it was like sending stones into the sea—the divine power was completely absorbed.
Han Nü laughed. “The taste of Tai He’s divine consciousness is delicious, vast and sorrowful. Thanks to him, I’ve successfully become a demon. Wu Shuang, I wonder what your divine consciousness tastes like? Surely it will help me pass my mortal tribulation, don’t you think?”
Illusions. All of this was an illusion. This was Han Nü’s miniature world inside the embroidered tapestry, where she could do whatever she pleased without restraint. She had trapped Tan Yin here not to kill her outright, but to torment her, playing cruelly with her emotions like a cat with a mouse, humiliating her before delivering the final blow. Tan Yin couldn’t give in.
She sat down cross-legged, closing her eyes. Her turbulent divine power compressed into a tight ball at her chest. She sealed off four of her senses, leaving only her sight, carefully observing this boundless miniature world, trying to find a flaw.
“Poor Tai He, Wu Shuang,” Han Nü’s mocking voice continued to pierce her mind, even with her hearing sealed. “Falling in love on a whim, doubting on a whim, and hating on a whim. I couldn’t stand to watch anymore. Come, let me show you the truth about Tai He.”
The scene before her shifted again. It was shortly after Han Nü had ascended to divinity. Tan Yin often created strange and quirky things to amuse them both. On that particular day, she had made little wooden dolls that could sing and dance.
She couldn’t quite remember what had upset Tai He back then, but he had been in a foul mood for days, showing her nothing but cold expressions. She had lived for so long, but she didn’t understand men at all. Perhaps all men were this unpredictable, switching between joy and anger without reason?
To make Tai He smile, she had racked her brains to create the little wooden dolls. She didn’t know how to sew clothes, so she had asked Han Nü to make ten or so outfits for them. Han Nü laughed as she dressed the dolls, saying, “You come up with the strangest ideas. Are these dolls just for Tai He?”
Tan Yin hadn’t answered then. She had never really thought about it that way. She created things on a whim, driven by a burst of inspiration. Whether it was for practicality or for someone’s happiness, she never thought much of it.
Tai He had been sitting by the Celestial River, lost in thought, unaware as the little wooden dolls approached him.
The dolls started spinning in circles, clapping their hands and singing in sharp, clumsy voices, startling Tai He so much he nearly jumped. Tan Yin, hiding behind a tree, laughed so hard she nearly fell over.
Seeing the little dolls, Tai He, intrigued, squatted down and gently picked up one of their wobbly hats. The doll’s hands and feet kept moving, and it continued to sing its simple, old-fashioned song.
Tan Yin ran out from behind the tree, hurriedly stopping him. “No! You’ll break them!”
Tai He held the doll in his hand, a strange expression on his face, as if he wanted to laugh but was trying to keep a straight face. After a long while, he quietly asked, “...Did you make this?”
Tan Yin, flustered, nodded. “Y-yes. Do you like it?”
He let out a long hum, the sound drawn out as if he was considering, but his eyes remained on the wobbly doll in his hand. After another pause, he asked softly, “Did you make it for me?”
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