When Tan Yin was five years old, her parents were both still alive. Her mother was from a foreign tribe and knew nothing about the craftsmanship of the Ji family artisans. She was also very unhappy with her husband, who spent all day obsessing over creating things while paying her no attention. Her health was poor, and she was often bedridden. Occasionally, Tan Yin’s father would visit her and make delicate little trinkets to cheer her up.
Tan Yin remembers a time when a wealthy client ordered ten intricate miniature houses, urgently needing them within a month. To complete the order worth hundreds of thousands of taels of gold, almost the entire Ji family pitched in, and her father worked tirelessly, neglecting sleep and meals. But then, her mother's condition suddenly worsened, and without hesitation, her father dropped everything and stayed by her side for more than half a month.
The clan was displeased, and many uncles, who were still alive at the time, took turns reprimanding him. They said this was a matter of the Ji family's reputation—taking the deposit but not delivering the goods was no different from fraud.
During that time, her father looked worn out, and in the end, her mother’s illness could not be cured. She passed away that winter. Tan Yin remembers her father sitting by her mother's grave for many days. In front of the grave were many small trinkets—a mechanical bird, little wooden figures, and even a box that, when opened, revealed a vividly lifelike peony flower.
These must have been the things her father made to please her mother while she was alive.
“Tan Yin, do you like this?” her father asked with a smile, handing her the beautiful and intricate box.
The five-year-old Tan Yin clutched the box, confused. She stared at it for a long time and then shook her head. “I like the big house more.”
Her father chuckled. “You prefer the miniature house? You truly are a child of the Ji family. But now, I think I prefer making these little trinkets because they hold emotion.”
Until her father passed away, he never made another miniature house. The order for the miniature houses was taken over by Tan Yin when she was ten. In her youthful ambition, she always wanted to create something truly astounding. This wish was never fulfilled in her lifetime, but after becoming a deity, she succeeded—she made the one and only soul lamp.
She loved the craft of being an artisan, loved the cold bronze rods and the solid rivets. Whenever a new idea came to her mind, the feeling was thrilling, as if a god had seized her soul. She had never thought about whether there was something she liked more in the things she made—every piece was born from her blood and sweat, and she loved them all.
Until she created Yuan Xiaozhong.
In that instant, she suddenly understood the true meaning of her father’s words: “I prefer making those little trinkets because they hold emotion.” Because of this emotion, she even felt that she could never create anything again. She finally understood why her father never made another miniature house.
But why did it have to be Yuan Zhong? She could have fallen in love with anyone, but why did it have to be him? The time she spent with him in the mortal realm was marked by both extreme sweetness and extreme fear. She feared the future, feared him discovering the truth, and feared her own disappearance.
If the person she loved had been Tai He, none of this would have caused her pain, a voice in her heart gently whispered.
Tai He... Tai He was already dead, his soul completely dispersed. His obsession had fused with Yuan Sheng, the god of life, and his mortal heart had vanished, no longer existing in this world. She had seen it with her own eyes.
She never let him know that she had once truly liked him—the god who blew windmills by the Tianhe River, who gave her a silk pouch filled with the golden sand of Tianhe, and whose windmill she still kept to this day. There was no longer any chance to return these things to him. Their fate was always misaligned, whether due to human intervention or destiny. He didn’t have enough courage, and she wasn’t forthright enough.
She thought she would like him forever, silently staying by his side, watching him like admiring a beautiful flower. The mere existence of this feeling brought her joy. She still remembered his smile, his words, whether cruel or gentle. But then, she met Yuan Zhong.
One day, when she suddenly thought of Tai He again, his image became as clear as still water. The memories remained, but the emotions had faded. She realized then that Tai He was truly in the past.
Why did he die? Why didn't he tell her anything? He harbored an obsession in a tapestry for five thousand years, and she waited in the divine realm for five thousand years. One was a foolish man, the other a foolish woman.
Had he ever hated her? When he left, did he finally find true peace?
She would never get an answer.
Tan Yin slowly opened her eyes. The sky was dim, and icy rain was falling in a steady drizzle. She curled up under a large tree, so exhausted she felt as though she could no longer move.
The tribulation of the mortal realm was ravaging her body, and she was about to fade away. Her divine power flickered faintly in her chest, but she had yet to reach Yuan Zhong’s side.
A voice in her heart sighed softly: Are you really going to continue? If you return to the divine realm now, there’s still time. Your beloved craft awaits you—the unparalleled goddess of unparalleled skill. Is it worth it?
No, she was no longer the unparalleled goddess. The flame of craftsmanship that had burned within her for more than five thousand years seemed to be slowly extinguishing. She had become a completely ordinary woman, wholly and completely in love with one man, wanting to spend her life with him.
For him, everything was worth it.
Tan Yin forced herself to stand, stumbling forward. Yuan Zhong must be waiting for her. The wind, water, snow, and flowers of the small paradise were all waiting for her, as were Yuan Xiaozhong and Xiao Erji. In the days to come, she would fade away, and Yuan Zhong would enter the cycle of reincarnation. The small paradise would no longer be visited by anyone, but Yuan Xiaozhong and Xiao Erji would continue to "live," remembering a man's love and a woman's devotion.
In the small paradise, the snow had already melted, flower buds had formed on the trees by the lake, and the willow trees had sprouted pale yellow shoots. When the spring breeze came, the landscape would be filled with peach blossoms and green willows, the beautiful scenery of spring.
Today was a rare day of good weather. As usual, Yuan Xiaozhong wound up the wooden figures, supervised them cleaning, then placed Xiao Erji in the center of the courtyard to let it spin around and bask in the sun. The immortal herbs in the medicine field were well cared for, and the spiritual energy was becoming more abundant. In a while, they would be ready for harvest, and new ones could be planted. The snow had melted, and after a few more days of sunshine, the two acres of land nearby could be sown. Should they plant radishes or chives?
The fragrant forest of Xiexiang was filled with pleasant aromas, but unfortunately, Yuan Xiaozhong didn’t understand spices. He would have to wait for Dazhong to come back and take care of it. But when would Dazhong return? When would the master return? They had been gone for a long time, and spring was almost here. Did they plan to wander around as immortal lovers, leaving him and Xiao Erji all alone?
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