In front of him was endless darkness, with dim, green flames falling like teardrops from the void. Beneath his feet, a narrow, straight path stretched out. Along the sides, vague red flowers bloomed, and the sound of trickling water could be faintly heard from the gloom. Where was this?
Yuan Zhong stood quietly in place, feeling a hazy yet hesitant thought in his heart: Should he move forward? He had an instinct that if he continued walking, he would lose something—those lingering attachments deep within his heart, the blurry figure in his mind, they would all be forgotten completely.
Whom had he once longed for? That bittersweet, unforgettable tenderness.
A faint voice seemed to answer the questions stirring in his heart from within the darkness: “Move forward. Don’t cling to anything.”
But he still hadn’t remembered that person. Had he once loved someone deeply?
“All has ended. This is your final resting place, the place where you will forget everything before beginning anew.”
He didn’t want to move on yet. Could he stay for a little longer? It seemed like he was close to grasping those fragmented images in his mind—snow-white robes, long black hair, and those cold, captivating eyes. Was that the person he had loved?
“This is where all love, hate, and entanglements come to an end. What once existed will fade, and what has faded will be forgotten by the world. Let go. Drink this water, and it will wash away all your sorrows and troubles.”
A pair of slender, pale hands extended from the darkness, holding a glass bowl. The water inside was crystal clear, without a single ripple.
Yuan Zhong felt as if he were in a dream. Slowly, he took the cold glass bowl. It was surprisingly heavy. As he moved, ripples spread across the surface of the water. The previously clear water suddenly seemed to hide countless images, its colors now dazzling and vibrant.
His entire life was contained in the colorful water of this bowl.
Red was the blood spilled by those he had slain; green was the shade of trees in the small paradise; white was the falling snow; pink were the flowers that never withered; brown was the fragrant wood he had once held in his hands; black was someone’s thick hair, and beneath that hair, the color of their clear eyes.
“Drink it. Forget,” the ethereal voice tempted him.
As if enchanted, Yuan Zhong raised the glass bowl to his lips. The water was chillingly cold, and as it neared, he seemed to hear countless whispers right beside him. Feeling tired, he closed his eyes and tilted his wrist slightly. The cold water touched his lips.
Suddenly, a soft voice called out from behind him: “Yuan Zhong, don’t drink.”
This voice was so gentle, yet it shook his heart more than the loudest thunder. His hand trembled, and half the bowl’s water spilled onto the ground, evaporating into nothing.
He quickly turned around and saw a young girl dressed in white, standing quietly in the darkness, her eyes like black gems. In that instant, all the emotions he had been unsure of surged into his soul. He remembered that there were so many things he wanted to say to her, but had never gotten the chance.
He had once thought he would feel hatred, jealousy, that he would demand to know who Tai He was. He had even imagined cutting off his left hand in a fit of rage to return it to her, hoping to fill the void in his heart through her tears and regret.
But in this moment, none of that mattered. Three lifetimes of emotions had finally been reciprocated, and they now stood as equals. He had never regretted meeting her on the Gui Xuan Terrace. His once-aimless life had gained true meaning, and he could die without regret.
Yuan Zhong quickly walked toward her, but no matter how fast he ran or how far he leaped, he couldn’t get any closer.
The ethereal voice suddenly resounded again, this time tinged with annoyance: “This is the domain of reincarnation and karmic duties. Even a goddess has no right to enter here. Leave at once!”
Reincarnation and karmic duties? Had he already died? Yuan Zhong instinctively looked down at his body. He was pale and translucent, hovering in midair like a ghostly afterimage. He truly was dead!
His running steps slowed, and he quietly looked at Tan Yin. Suddenly, he smiled slightly and said in a low voice, “This isn’t a dream, is it? You’re really here?”
Did you come for me?
She too was floating in midair, her sleeves and robes covering her hands and feet, making her look even more like a ghost than he did. But her eyes clearly held a bright, gentle light as she gazed directly at him.
“It’s not a dream,” her voice was like the warm wind through the forest in March.
There was a trace of fervor in Yuan Zhong’s eyes, but his voice grew softer. “Those words you said before... could you say them again?”
Tan Yin was silent for a moment, then she shook her head. “I won’t say them here. If you want to hear them, come back with me. In the small paradise, I’ll say them as many times as you want, for a lifetime if you like.”
A lifetime... Yuan Zhong’s heart suddenly ached. She had promised to stay with him forever, until death. Now, he was already dead.
He too shook his head slowly, and in a gentle voice, he said, “Tan Yin, I’ll wait for you here. I won’t drink the waters of the River of Forgetfulness. If you don’t come, I won’t leave.”
Anxiousness appeared on Tan Yin’s face. “No, come with me. You can still live for a long time. Don’t stay here!”
“The time above will eventually run out,” Yuan Zhong gazed at her tenderly. “But I want endless time to be with you.”
Her expression grew even more anxious, and she urged him, “Please, don’t stay here! Leave with me!”
Why was she so insistent on matters of life and death? He had spent most of his life in sorrow, and only the final chapter of it had suddenly gained color and sound. He had no attachment to the mortal world. There was no eternity there—everything would eventually come to an end. All he wanted was eternity with her.
The ethereal voice behind him spoke once more: “She is a goddess. After death, she will not enter the cycle of reincarnation, which is why she wishes to bring you back to the human world. But to disrupt the cycle of reincarnation for her own desires will bring calamity—she will be consumed by dark fire, and her soul will be scattered.”
Yuan Zhong’s expression suddenly changed, and he saw, for the first time, a look of aggression and hostility in Tan Yin’s usually gentle eyes. Her wide sleeves spread out like wings, wrapping around his body, and she spun around, swiftly flying over the blood-red flowers. The dim green flames fell behind her, but the owner of the slender hands in the darkness did not pursue them. Only the voice echoed in the void: “Your time is already running out. I won’t chase after you. Take care.”
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