Snow covered everything, but it didn’t dampen Yuan Xiaozhong’s excitement to be home. Mortals grow homesick after just a few years away, but he had been gone for centuries! He had nearly forgotten what the small paradise looked like!
Pushing open the door, he was greeted by a thick layer of dust, almost as deep as the snow outside, and the mess was indescribable. The mechanical beings the master had made to clean the place had long since rotted into useless piles of wood. Not one remained. Yuan Xiaozhong spent the entire day cleaning, and only after he had finally tidied everything up did he gather some snowflakes from the plum trees to boil water for tea to bring to Yuan Zhong.
Stepping outside, he saw that Yuan Zhong had somehow already made his way to the small island in the middle of the lake. A trail of deep and shallow footprints stretched across the snow-covered surface, while the wind howled, tossing snowflakes in every direction. Yuan Zhong sat there, bent over Xiao Erji, meticulously repairing him. His expression was devout, almost as if filled with a kind of desperate hope.
Yes, that night... it was snowing just like this. A night like this. The goddess in white had descended onto the lake, fallen into his arms, cold as the melting moonlight.
Yuan Zhong skillfully carved Xiao Erji's face. Hundreds of years had passed, and his technique was no longer clumsy. The delicate features began to take shape under his hands—a youthful, slightly chubby face, with a smooth, full forehead, and finally, a slender chin.
After carefully setting black gemstone eyes into the sockets and fitting the fine hair into place, Yuan Zhong gazed blankly at the wooden figure. The white-clad girl in front of him seemed to flutter in the wind, as if she might be carried away at any moment. Unable to help himself, he spread his arms and drew the cold wooden figure into his embrace. He didn’t want her to leave.
There was a small winding key at the back of the figure's neck. Yuan Zhong gave it a few gentle turns, and with a few clicks, Xiao Erji began to turn in place. After hundreds of years, Yuan Zhong had made little progress—he could only make it turn clumsily, unable to say a single complete sentence.
The stiff, mechanical voice echoed across the empty lake: “Ji Tan Yin! Ji Tan Yin! I am Ji Tan Yin!”
Yuan Zhong suddenly laughed, not knowing what miracle he was waiting for. The snow on the lake, the moon in the sky—everything was exactly as it had been back then. The only difference was that she would never again secretly make the mechanical figure say something new. She would never come back.
He had waited for hundreds of years, and now his hope was on the verge of crumbling.
How does one give up on a hope that refuses to die? Perhaps she would come back in the next moment. Perhaps she would suddenly appear tomorrow... He had survived for years on these “maybes,” but he could no longer hold on. In truth, he had been left behind, isolated in this world, with no joy left in his life.
The woman who had never lied to him had, in the end, told the biggest lie of all. She had made him wait like a fool for so long. But she would never return. Her soul had scattered, and no trace of Ji Tan Yin remained in this world.
“...Liar.” She was a despicable liar.
“Ji Tan Yin! You liar!”
Yuan Zhong’s angry roar echoed over the empty lake. The wind blew his long hair wildly, its wailing sound like her voice, saying she hadn’t lied to him. But soon, all fell into silent stillness once more.
He collapsed backward into the snow, staring up at the vast sky. The stars twinkled above, and a cold, crescent moon hung in the air.
It was as if her eyes were watching him. Yuan Zhong slowly closed his own eyes, and a single tear slipped down his cheek.
It seemed like he was dreaming again. The scene was filled with countless pink and white blossoms, tangled in a chaotic blur. He walked alone through an endless forest of flowers, not knowing where he was headed.
Even with a brush in hand, there was no one to paint; though he played the qin and sang, there was no one to accompany him; raising his cup to the flowers, there was no one to join him in a toast.
Underneath the flowers stood a figure in white. Yuan Zhong halted his aimless wandering, staring dazedly at the back that haunted his dreams. He didn’t dare move, afraid that if he did, she would vanish. He didn’t dare speak, fearing that if he spoke, he would wake and never see her again.
Even though he knew it was a dream, he stood there silently, gazing at that familiar silhouette, his heart silently begging her to turn around and see him.
The figure moved slightly, as if hearing his silent plea. She slowly turned, revealing that same face he had etched into his soul for hundreds of years. Her expression was gentle, her eyes filled with love as she gazed at him. She raised her hand, pointing first to her own heart, then to his.
“Yuan Zhong,” she called to him silently.
He was here, always here, always waiting for her.
She began walking toward him, light as a feather. Yuan Zhong opened his arms, and she flew into his embrace like a soft breeze, only to vanish the moment she touched his chest. Yuan Zhong felt a burning heat in his chest, so intense it felt as though it would scorch him. He trembled slightly.
Someone was pushing him urgently. Yuan Xiaozhong’s panicked voice grew louder and louder: “Dazhong! Wake up! You’re glowing! What’s happening?!”
Yuan Zhong’s eyes snapped open, and snow was falling once again. Yuan Xiaozhong was squatting beside him, frantically shouting. Feeling disoriented, Yuan Zhong slowly sat up, brushing the soft snow from his body. He suddenly realized that his chest was glowing with a clear, radiant light, as if a small moon were shining from within him.
The searing heat in his chest returned, as if something inside him was trying to tear its way out. Yuan Zhong tore open his shirt to reveal the blinding white light spilling from his chest. It was as if something was trying to burst through his ribcage.
“Is this divine power?” he thought in shock. How could there be divine power inside him? Was it something Tan Yin had left behind when she last repaired his body?
There was no time to think. An immortal’s body couldn’t contain active divine power—no matter how small the amount. The pain in Yuan Zhong’s chest grew unbearable, like a knife twisting in his heart. Despite his tolerance for pain, he couldn’t withstand this. Blood began to seep from between his clenched teeth as he let out a low, pained groan.
Yuan Xiaozhong was beside himself with fear. What was happening to him?! Was he going to die? What should he do? Should he fetch a doctor? Or carry him to bed?
Suddenly, Yuan Zhong let out a cry of agony, spitting blood onto the snow. He clutched his chest, his body shaking violently. Bright light spilled from between his fingers, burning his palms black.
“Dazhong! Dazhong, hold on! You can’t die!” Yuan Xiaozhong shouted, unsure of what he was saying.
Yuan Zhong bent over in pain, but then stood up straight again, gasping for breath. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth as he slowly lowered his hands from his chest. In his palms, there was a ball of radiant light, pulsing like a heart.
He stared at it in disbelief, mixed with joy. The familiar divine power, the familiar aura—it was Tan Yin! She had really come back! This ball of light—it was her divine heart!
Yuan Xiaozhong was still shouting in confusion, but Yuan Zhong ignored him. He held the glowing light in his hands, and with a sudden gust of wind, he raced out of the small paradise without a word. Yuan Xiaozhong, panicking, spun in circles, shouting after him. Turning, he saw Xiao Erji behind him and asked frantically, “What just happened?!”
But, of course, Xiao Erji could tell him nothing. Left with no other choice, Yuan Xiaozhong continued running around aimlessly, torn between chasing after Yuan Zhong and staying behind to wait for him.
Three days later, Yuan Zhong returned, looking utterly disheveled. His hair was a tangled mess, his eyes were bloodshot, and his clothes were filthy beyond description. But his eyes were brighter than ever before. In one hand, he carried the pulsing heart of light, and in the other, he held a pouch. Without a word, he rushed upstairs like a whirlwind.
Yuan Xiaozhong hurried after him and saw Yuan Zhong take several white lotuses from the pouch. These were no ordinary lotuses—each had 81 layers of petals, enormous in size, and radiating a faint spiritual energy, clearly lotus flowers of immortal quality.
Yuan Xiaozhong watched in shock as Yuan Zhong placed the glowing heart inside one of the lotuses. Instantly, the light flared up. Yuan Zhong then placed the other lotuses into the light as well, murmuring softly, “Why the lotus of immortal quality? Why not a human body?”
Yuan Xiaozhong exclaimed, “What are you talking about?!”
Yuan Zhong stared blankly at the glowing light. “Tan Yin has returned.”
Yuan Xiaozhong shrieked, “You’re insane! The master... she’s dead! Dazhong! I know you’ve been grieving for hundreds of years, but what’s the point of this delusion?”
Yuan Zhong didn’t argue. In the past three days, he had searched for a mortal body for Tan Yin’s divine heart. He had tried everything—from newly deceased bodies of girls to living ones—but her divine heart had shown no reaction. Until, by chance, he passed by Fangwai Mountain and saw the immortal lotuses blooming unnaturally in midwinter. Tan Yin’s divine heart had begun to beat wildly in his hand, as if it was satisfied with these flowers.
He didn’t understand why, but it didn’t matter. As long as she returned, he didn’t care if her body was made of stone.
The light slowly dimmed, and within it, the faint outline of a naked girl could be seen, lying on the bed, her features and figure exactly like Tan Yin’s when she was alive. Yuan Xiaozhong was so shocked that his jaw practically hit the floor. For once, he had no words.
The light continued to fade until it disappeared completely. The naked girl lay there as if she were merely asleep. Yuan Zhong leaned closer and heard her soft, steady breathing, felt her real heartbeat. His heart surged with joy, and though he wanted to laugh, even shout in happiness, his vision blurred with tears instead.
Pulling the covers over her body, he wrapped her in his arms, holding her tightly, never to let go again.
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