A cluster of shadow-like flames shot out from the darkness, striking Tan Yin in the back. She gasped sharply in pain but didn’t stop, flying swiftly along the narrow, endless path. Golden sparks trailed from her tattered robes for a long distance behind her. Half of her body seemed as soft and fleeting as a cloud, gradually turning translucent. The shadowy dark fire inside her burned fiercely, consuming the last remnants of her divine power.
She suddenly looked down at him and flashed a smile. Ji Tan Yin had always been foolish, even when she smiled—it was either overly mature or ridiculously silly. But now, her smile held a hint of playfulness, as if she were saying, “This is the first time I’ve been so bold in doing something wrong.”
Yuan Zhong stared at her, dumbfounded, then suddenly lifted his arms and held her slender body tightly. She was about to dissolve, like sand slipping through his fingers. Was she about to scatter, her soul destroyed? Why hadn’t she told him! The greatest agony in this world is being left behind. Was she really going to make him watch her disappear, leaving him alone, with nowhere to go?
“Don’t forget me,” Tan Yin whispered softly into his ear, her voice growing fainter and fainter. “I’ll come back for you. Live well and wait for me.”
With a forceful push, she shoved him away. Yuan Zhong felt surrounded by blazing white light. Her face became more and more blurred in the brightness until he could no longer see it. He stretched out his arms with all his strength, but his fingertips only grazed the edges of her skin, which had turned into golden dust. Her final words sank deeply into his ears: “I love you, I’ve always loved you.”
He crashed heavily onto something hard. Instinctively, he rolled over and sat up, only to find himself surrounded by a garden of vibrant flowers. The willow trees, just beginning to sprout tender buds, swayed gently in the breeze. In the distance, the misty mountains and rivers created a familiar scene—this was the mortal world, his small paradise. Had it all been a dream?
His body no longer hurt; in fact, he felt refreshed. Tearing off the blood-soaked bandages around his chest, he saw that the deadly wound had vanished, as if it had never existed. His heart beat steadily, and he could smell the fragrance of the flowers, feel the warmth of the sunlight falling gently on his hair. He was alive... He had survived!
Where was Tan Yin?! Yuan Zhong jumped to his feet in a panic, frantically searching around like a helpless child. The small paradise was empty, and the figure in white was nowhere to be seen. It was as if she had never existed in this world at all, disappearing quietly and without a trace. The only things that remained were the pouch of the heavens and his healed body, proof that she had been real, not a figment of his imagination—he had been deeply loved by her.
The gate to the courtyard creaked open. Yuan Xiaozhong walked out, his face filled with sorrow and loneliness, carrying Xiao Erji out to bask in the sun. They were both made of wood, and if they didn’t get some sun, they’d soon become moldy. Then again, mold didn’t sound so bad. If the mechanical man rotted away, perhaps it would be a kind of death—a better fate than being left alone in this heartbroken place, endlessly mourning the things left behind by Yuan Zhong and the master.
“The master is gone, and Dazhong is dead,” Yuan Xiaozhong muttered sadly to Xiao Erji, not caring whether it could understand him. “From now on, it’s just you and me in this small paradise. You’re a useless thing that can’t even speak... Sigh, let’s go see Dazhong. At least he’s an immortal, so he won’t rot. Even if his body’s left behind, it’ll still be a keepsake...”
As they made their way to the small garden, a sudden gust of wind blew, scattering the flowers. Yuan Xiaozhong hurriedly used his sleeve to shield Xiao Erji from the wind. Xiao Erji wasn’t as finely made as he was, and if a petal or twig got into its eyes, it might never move again. This foolish creature might not be able to talk or think, but at least it could move. If it couldn’t even do that, the world’s greatest mechanical man would truly be too pitiful.
“If Dazhong were still alive, I wouldn’t have to worry about all this,” Yuan Xiaozhong muttered, feeling a sudden urge to cry. Mechanical men couldn’t shed tears, so all he could do was pull a sorrowful face and speak in a voice that almost cracked with sobs. “Dazhong, that useless thing, an immortal who just died like that! And the master, she ran away as soon as Dazhong died. She didn’t seem like the type to be so heartless!”
He glanced toward the cold stone platform where Yuan Zhong’s body had been laid, but to his shock, the platform was empty. Under the pear blossom tree opposite, Yuan Zhong was standing quietly, holding the pouch that belonged to the master, his body covered in pale petals falling from above.
Yuan Xiaozhong’s jaw dropped in utter shock. Dazhong?! He had come back to life?! Or was this some kind of resurrection? He had checked repeatedly to make sure that Yuan Zhong was truly, undeniably dead. Even for an immortal, death was supposed to be final, right?!
“D-Dazhong...” Yuan Xiaozhong stammered, trembling.
Yuan Zhong turned toward him, his expression filled with melancholy. For a brief moment, the snow-white figure following behind Yuan Xiaozhong captured all of his attention, but upon closer inspection, it was only Xiao Erji.
He remembered that night on the frozen lake when Tan Yin had secretly tinkered with Xiao Erji, and how much joy that had brought him. But now, where was she? Would she ever come back to play another prank on him?
Yuan Xiaozhong, seeing that Yuan Zhong remained motionless, grew increasingly frightened. Waving his hands in alarm, he shouted, “Dazhong! Is that really you? Say something! Are you really back from the dead?!”
Before he could finish, Yuan Zhong suddenly strode toward him. Startled, Yuan Xiaozhong stumbled backward, but to his surprise, Yuan Zhong reached down and pulled Xiao Erji into his arms. Burying his face in its fur, he let out silent sobs. Great, silent tears rolled down his face, soaking into Xiao Erji’s black hair.
This was the first time Yuan Xiaozhong had ever seen Yuan Zhong cry. It turned out that when he wept, it was without sound—only those large tears kept falling, one after another, as if they would never stop.
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