Chapter 35

Little Yuan Zhong saw that the situation was not good and had already run away. From the small building came a series of crashing sounds, interspersed with Little Yuan Zhong’s screams. Tanyin, having just finished treating the old turtle’s leg injury, turned around to see Little Yuan Zhong’s wooden arm rolling to her feet, followed closely by two legs, and finally a section of his wooden torso thudded to the ground, scattering a large amount of snow.

Little Yuan Zhong had tragically been dismembered.

So bloody, so violent… Tanyin reached out and poked his face.

Little Yuan Zhong looked aggrieved: “Big Zhong is so ruthless! I’ll never cook for him again!”

Before he could finish, Yuan Zhong flew over in a flash of golden light, snapping Little Yuan Zhong’s head off, which rolled miserably onto the frozen lake.

After finishing all this, Yuan Zhong slowly exhaled, tidied his slightly disheveled clothes and hair, and continued to smile gently at Tanyin: “Put him back together.”

How terrifying… Tanyin quickly reassembled Little Yuan Zhong’s limbs, all the while glancing back at Yuan Zhong. He walked into the Xie Xiang forest, searched around, and only found a few bloody feathers. The celestial cranes that had been raised in the forest flew into his arms, crying and lamenting Little Yuan Zhong’s atrocities.

After Little Yuan Zhong was put back together, he cowered behind Tanyin, too scared to move. Suddenly, Yuan Zhong called him over again: “Come here.”

“Master…” Little Yuan Zhong felt he was about to shed mechanical tears, clinging tightly to Tanyin’s clothes. She patted him in comfort.

Yuan Zhong, tired of waiting, came over to grab him by the collar and drag him to the Xie Xiang forest. Tanyin couldn’t hear what they were saying, but saw Yuan Zhong give some instructions, which Little Yuan Zhong nodded fervently. He dug a hole in the ground in a few swift moves, buried the bloody feathers respectfully, and performed several reverent bows, behaving more properly than ever before.

From then on, Little Yuan Zhong acted like a mouse encountering a cat whenever he saw Yuan Zhong, behaving exceedingly obediently. Tanyin also found it curious why she had created such an autonomous mechanical man. Little Yuan Zhong’s actions were beyond her control from the moment he was wound up, acting unpredictably like a living person. She wondered if ancient puppet masters’ creations were like this too.

In comparison, the wooden puppet Little Erji made by Yuan Zhong was much simpler. After meticulous carving, Little Erji, though not lifelike, bore a seven- or eight-tenths resemblance to Tanyin and moved without the clumsiness of a typical mechanical man. Although it could only perform two actions: walk and turn in circles.

Yuan Zhong didn’t seem to mind Little Erji’s limitations. He enjoyed synchronizing Little Erji’s spinning movements with ancient melodies, creating a charming yet chaotic rhythm. Even the elegant melodies of “Guan Ju” became unrecognizable when played on his zither, with its rhythm slowed considerably. The Fox clan, known for their refinement in music, fragrance, wine, flowers, and dance, excelled in these cultural pursuits, and Yuan Zhong was no exception.

On a clear day after the snow, a few plum trees stood sparsely outside the small building. Though seemingly planted randomly, their arrangement was quite clever, creating a landscape of near and far, dense and sparse, with a fragrance that fluctuated in intensity.

Little Erji circled beneath a plum tree, its movements graceful yet clumsy due to its mechanical limitations. Wearing Yuan Zhong’s white robe, it exuded an otherworldly elegance, with its sleeves fluttering and long hair flowing, blending into the snowy, plum-colored scenery and distant ink-wash mountains.

Yuan Zhong had set up a wooden table in the distance, complete with incense, a zither, a painting, and a pot of wine. Occasionally inspired, he would play a few scattered notes or sketch a few lines, gradually bringing to life a landscape of snow, mountains, and peerless beauty.

Tanyin, engrossed in her work, fiddled with wooden pegs. She was never one for such refined pastimes, unlike Yuan Zhong, who could master these complex and interesting things. She busied herself making small wooden figures, each dressed in colorful clothes, and jumping around and circling Little Erji. Unfortunately, Little Erji’s unpredictable movements soon knocked the wooden figures over.

Tanyin hurriedly ran to pick them up.

Suddenly, she heard Yuan Zhong chuckle softly. His fingers plucked the zither strings, the melody rising to a high pitch, washing away the previous elegant and restrained tone and becoming tender and alluring. Even Tanyin, who didn’t understand music, was captivated, standing there in a daze.

He continued to play and sing softly: “White brocade without patterns, fragrance blooming, jade trees, and snow buds. The night is deep, the floating light is hazy, coldly soaking in the melting moon.”

This was a song praising plum blossoms, originally elegant and clear but now rendered tender and sentimental by him. Tanyin stood there like a fool until the song ended, and then she turned to look at Yuan Zhong. He leaned on the wooden table and smiled at her.

Though he said nothing, she felt she knew the words he wanted to say.

In his dreams, she had known—a young boy on a high platform, slender hands, and a focused gaze. Her descent into the mortal realm to verify Taihe’s left hand had meant three decades of sleepless nights for him.

But even knowing this, what could she do? Tanyin looked away, pretending not to care.

A voice in her heart quietly argued: Then why do you stay by his side? Why use your divine form? Are you waiting for him to die? If you told him, would you be afraid?

Yes, she was afraid—afraid he would be truly heartbroken, but even more afraid he would leave her. Yuan Zhong always said he didn’t want her to leave, but the truth was, she was the one truly afraid. She didn’t want to think about why because it was meaningless. She could only avoid it. Their existences were on different levels. Why not let him live a satisfied life? Besides, her body was beginning to perish…

Pretending to forget her ultimate purpose, she believed they could have a wonderfully happy life together—so said the voice in her heart.

Tanyin looked up to see Yuan Zhong approaching with a painting. With just a few strokes, he had depicted white snow, mountains, plum trees, and a beautiful woman, as if ready to step out of the painting.

“What do you think of this painting?” Yuan Zhong asked her with a smile.

Tanyin slowly nodded. “Yes, it’s beautiful.”

He rolled up the painting, tied it with a red silk ribbon, and shook it playfully. “Let’s hang it above the bed.”

Tanyin couldn’t help but laugh.

“Why above the bed?”

He winked mischievously.

“To ward off evil spirits, It’s a painting of a goddess, after all!”

This sly fox immortal never revealed his true feelings directly, always hinting and then covering them up with jokes, carefully protecting his pride.

Tanyin could only smile, bending down to pick up the wooden figures. Suddenly, little Erji started malfunctioning again. It was spinning in circles normally, but then its arms opened wide and began spinning like windmills, hitting Yuan Zhong hard on the back with loud thuds.

“Ouch, that hurts!” he exclaimed dramatically, falling towards Tanyin.

She quickly stood up to support him, but he opened his arms and hugged her tightly, continuing to exaggerate, “It hurts! I think I pulled a muscle!”

This was too fake! Tanyin was both amused and exasperated, frozen in his embrace. She poked his waist with a finger, asking, “Feeling better now?”

He held her even tighter, his voice muffled.

“Just a little longer.”

Tanyin felt like a wooden stake, her arms hanging limply. Her head and shoulders were tightly held against his chest, her cheeks pressing against him, breathing in his unique scent. His breath was long and hot, blowing near her ear and making it burn.

She struggled to speak.

“Let… let go…”

His voice was even softer.

“If you don’t want this, then push me away. Push me away.”

She was a goddess; it would be easy for her to push him away without even struggling. But did she really want to? She could already imagine the look on his face if she did—the sorrow and disappointment in those beautiful eyes. She didn’t want to see that.

Tanyin felt her entire body tingling. Push him away? No, it was her own unwillingness to struggle, not wanting even a fingertip to leave him. She stood stiffly, held tightly in this strange embrace, for a long time without moving.

Yuan Zhong, close to her ear, spoke fervently, “You won’t push me away. I know you like me, don’t you? You just don’t want to say it.”

You like me, you don’t want to say it. He had said the same words in her dreams.

Tanyin smiled but neither nodded nor shook her head. That searing pain, as if burning her soul, spread throughout her body—she was already fading. Why not give in? She didn’t want her soul to dissipate alone; she wanted to be with him, regardless of her original purpose.

Slowly, she raised her hand, timidly, very slowly, and gently wrapped it around his waist.

Yuan Zhong let out a sound like a sigh or a moan. He lowered his head, his soft, burning lips falling clumsily on her cool ones, trembling from head to toe, his lips shaking uncontrollably.

Maybe it was she who was trembling, the pain like burning her soul coursing through her body. She felt something drop inside her, alternating between heat and cold, except for his lips, which were so hot she didn’t know what to do.

“I love you…”

His voice was urgent and faint, and he kissed her face with fervor, boldly and openly expressing his feelings.

“I love you.”

Tanyin kept her eyes tightly closed. His frantic and awkward kisses finally settled on her forehead, and he held the back of her head, hugging her tightly. The clear, bright wind whistled past, with Little Erji still spinning crazily and creaking on the snowy ground. Little Yuan Zhong was hiding somewhere, leaving just the two of them in this world.

Tanyin slowly opened her eyes, and bit by bit, she pulled off her right glove. She could clearly see that her right hand, which only had translucent light particles at the fingertips, now had half of her palm turned into those particles.

Frightened, she hastily pulled the glove back on. Her vision blurred, and tears streamed down her face.

Her human tribulation—this place, this person—was her human tribulation.