Chapter 51

When Tanyin was five, both her parents were still alive. Her mother was an outsider and had no understanding of the craftsmanship of the Ji family.

She was also displeased with her husband, who was always engrossed in his work and paid little attention to her.

Her health was poor, and she was often bedridden.

Occasionally, her father would visit her, bringing small, intricate trinkets to cheer her up.

Tanyin remembered that there was once a wealthy client who urgently ordered ten exquisite houses, demanding that they be completed within a month.

The order was worth hundreds of thousands of taels of gold, and almost everyone in the Ji family joined in to help.

Her father worked tirelessly, day and night. However, just as her mother’s condition suddenly worsened, her father unhesitatingly dropped everything to stay by her side for more than half a month.

The family was displeased.

Many of her uncles, who were still alive at the time, took turns reprimanding him, saying that this concerned the reputation of the Ji family.

Having accepted the deposit, they couldn’t fail to deliver the products—otherwise, wouldn’t that be tantamount to fraud?

During that period, her father appeared very haggard, and in the end, her mother’s illness couldn’t be cured.

She passed away that winter.

Tanyin remembered how her father sat in front of her mother’s grave for many days.

In front of the grave, there were many small trinkets—mechanical birds, little wooden figures, and even a box that, when opened, would reveal a lifelike peony flower.

These must have been the things her father had made to please her mother while she was still alive.

“Tanyin, do you like this?” her father asked with a smile, handing her the exquisite box.

The five-year-old Tanyin held the box in her hands, stared at it for a long time, and then shook her head, saying, “I like the big house more.”

Her father chuckled, “You like the exquisite house more? You truly are a child of the Ji family. But now, I think I prefer making these little trinkets because they carry emotion.”

From then on, until the day her father passed away, he never made another exquisite house.

Tanyin took over those orders when she was ten.

Young and ambitious, she always wanted to create something groundbreaking and magnificent.

This wish was not fulfilled during her lifetime, but it was fulfilled after she became a god—she created the one and only Soul Lantern.

She loved the craft—loved the cold bronze rods and the sturdy rivets.

Whenever a new idea came to her, it filled her with a thrilling, almost divine passion.

She had never thought about whether there was something she loved more in the things she made.

Every piece was a labor of love; she cherished them all.

Until she made Little Yuan Zhong.

In that moment, she suddenly understood the true meaning of her father’s words: “I prefer making these little trinkets because they carry emotion.”

Because of that emotion, she even felt that she would never be able to create anything again. She finally understood why her father had never made another exquisite house.

But why Yuan Zhong?

She could have fallen in love with anyone else—why him?

The days she spent with him were filled with both extreme sweetness and extreme fear.

She feared the future, feared that he would discover the truth, and feared her own disappearance.

If the one she loved was Taihe, none of this would have caused her pain.

A soft voice whispered in her heart.

Taihe… Taihe was already dead, his soul scattered.

His obsession had merged with the essence of a new primodial god, while his mortal heart had vanished from this world.

She had witnessed its dissolution with her own eyes.

She never told him that she once truly liked him—the god who stood by the Milky Way, blowing the windmills.

He had given her a pouch filled with golden sand from the Milky Way, and she still kept his windmill to this day.

But there was no longer a chance to return it to him; no more opportunities.

Their fates had always been misaligned, whether by human choice or divine decree.

He lacked the courage, and she wasn’t forthright enough.

She thought she would always silently like him, watching over him from afar like admiring a beautiful flower.

Just the permanence of his existence would bring her joy.

She still remembered his smile and the things he said—whether cruel or kind—but then she met Yuan Zhong.

One day, when she thought of Taihe again, his image had become like a pool of clear water.

The memory remained, but the feelings had faded.

That’s when she realized Taihe was in the past.

Why did he have to die?

Why didn’t he tell her everything?

He had held onto his obsession for five thousand years within the embroidery, and she had waited silently in the divine realm for five thousand years.

One was a foolish man, the other a foolish woman.

Did he ever hate her?

When he left, did he find true peace?

She would never know the answer.

Tanyin slowly opened her eyes.

The sky was dark, and cold rain drizzled down.

She was curled up beneath a large tree, so exhausted that she could barely move.

The human tribulation was raging inside her, and she was close to fading away.

Divine power flickered faintly in her chest, but she still hadn’t reached Yuan Zhong’s side.

A soft voice sighed in her heart: “Do you really want to continue? If you return to the divine realm now, it’s not too late. Your beloved craft is still waiting for you. goddess Wushuang of the Ji family—will it be worth it?”

No, she was no longer the goddess Wushuang.

The flame of her craft, which had burned for over five thousand years, seemed to be slowly extinguishing within her.

She had become an ordinary woman, fully and deeply in love with one person, wanting to spend her life with him.

For him, everything was worth it.

Tanyin forced herself to stand up and staggered forward.

Yuan Zhong must be waiting for her.

The wind and water, snow and flowers in the small cave are also waiting for her, as well as Little Yuan Zhong and Little Erji. In the distant future, after her soul dissipates and Yuan Zhong enters reincarnation, the cave will be left without visitors, but Little Yuan Zhong and Little Erji will continue to “live” on.

They will remember the man’s feeling and the persistence of a woman for him.

The snow in the small cave heaven had already melted. The flowering trees by the lake had formed buds, and the willows had produced tender yellow shoots. In a few days, with the spring breeze, the landscape would turn into a scene of peach blossoms and green willows.

Today was a rare good day.

Little Yuan Zhong, as usual, wound up the mechanical figures, supervised their cleaning, and then brought Little Erji out to the center of the courtyard to bask in the sun while spinning around.

The herbs in the medicinal field were well cared for, their spiritual energy growing stronger. Soon, they would be ready for harvest, and new ones could be planted. The snow had melted, and with a few more sunny days, the two acres of land nearby could be sown.

Should they plant radishes or chives?

The fragrance in the Xie Xiang forest was pleasant, but unfortunately, he didn’t understand spices and had to wait for Big Zhong to return to handle it.

But when would Big Zhong come back?

When would the master return?

Their absence had been so long; spring was almost here.

Did they plan to wander around as immortal lovers and leave him and Little Erji all alone?

Little Yuan Zhong sighed in loneliness.

He didn’t even have anyone to talk to.

He was suffocating as a chatterbox.

He could only go to the lakeside to play with the old turtle and ramble on about trivial matters.

However, since the last time he took a bit of flesh from its leg, the old turtle had been avoiding him.

Little Yuan Zhong used an iron net to forcibly drag the old turtle out and sat beside it, talking to its tearful eyes.

“When do you think Big Zhong and the others will come back? You can’t talk, and Little Erji just spins around all day. Here I am, a handsome and elegant young man, all alone in this vast cave. Isn’t that too desolate? Ah, you’re crying too. You think it’s desolate, right?”

The old turtle lay on the shore in agony, wishing it could turn into a human tomorrow and leave this dragon’s den, far away from this cruel mechanical man.

Suddenly, a sound from the cave’s entrance startled it. The old turtle turned its snow-white head, looking over in confusion.

Little Yuan Zhong reacted even faster, already dashing toward the entrance—Big Zhong and the master must have returned!

But he didn’t find the smiling immortal lovers.

At the entrance lay a bloodied, battered man.

Little Yuan Zhong ran over in shock and helped him up.

It was Big Zhong!

His upper body was soaked in blood, and the wound seemed to be in a vital spot on his chest.

Who did this?!

He gently carried Yuan Zhong and ran quickly to the small building.

He suddenly felt Yuan Zhong’s hand tightly grasping his wrist as he asked tremulously, “Tan..Yin… is she… back?”

Little Yuan Zhong urgently replied, “No… what happened to you? Why are you like this?”

Yuan Zhong frowned in pain, his face pale, with dried blood spots on his cheeks.

His breathing was erratic, showing signs of a severe injury.

Little Yuan Zhong carefully carried him into the small building and was about to enter the door when Yuan Zhong said, “Go to the courtyard… under the tree…”

“You’re going to die!” Little Yuan Zhong said desperately.

“Go.”

Little Yuan Zhong had no choice but to gently lay him under a flowering tree.

“I… I’ll get some medicine for you…”

But he didn’t know what medicine to use.

Big Zhong’s injury was on his chest—could a wound medicine be used?

Or should he clean the wound first?

Little Yuan Zhong was at a loss, pacing anxiously.

Yuan Zhong rested under the tree for a moment, his expression slowly calming.

He looked down at his blood-stained clothes, carefully unfastened them, and removed them.

Little Yuan Zhong then noticed his right hand was hanging limply, as if broken, and his left foot was also injured… The clothes were gently discarded on the ground.

His body was covered in blood, with a deep wound on his chest from which thick blood flowed slowly.

What was worse, the wound was gradually widening, as if something were eroding the flesh.

“Bandages, water, clean clothes, comb, copper mirror.”

Yuan Zhong gave a terse instruction.

Even at this time, he still asked for clean clothes, a comb, and a mirror!

Little Yuan Zhong was at a loss and had no choice but to reluctantly bring him the items he asked for.

Yuan Zhong cleaned the blood off his body, wrapped the wound with bandages, and put on clean clothes.

Little Yuan Zhong held the copper mirror in his hands.

Yuan Zhong stared at the mirror for a long time.

The reflection gradually became blurry; no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t see the figure clearly.

He sighed slightly and began to carefully comb his long hair.

After a long time, he barely managed to pin his long hair back up and asked quietly, “How do I look?”

Little Yuan Zhong scratched his head, “You look great! But Big Zhong, your wound…”

“I’m waiting for her here,” Yuan Zhong said in a low voice, “You go. Don’t disturb me.”

What’s going on?!

Little Yuan Zhong was nearly bursting with frustration.

He stepped aside, staring at Yuan Zhong in a daze, too anxious to speak or leave.

Yuan Zhong’s breathing grew weaker, and his face paler, as if he might collapse at any moment.

For five days, he had waited in the courtyard, changing from one blood-stained outfit to another, always maintaining the best appearance while waiting.

The willows by the lake had sprouted new shoots, and the spring breeze brought warmth and sweetness.

Yuan Zhong sat leaning against a tree, his beautiful eyes now lifeless, like two gray glass beads.

“Has it blossomed?” he suddenly asked.

Yuan Xiaozhong handed him a pear blossom, “Yes, it has.”

“And Little Erji?”

“I’ll go bring it over.”

As Little Yuan Zhong turned around, he suddenly saw Tanyin. She was floating outside the courtyard in her white clothes, most of her body seeming transparent, her white garments fluttering in the wind.

Little Yuan Zhong’s jaw almost dropped. He pointed at her, jumping around and screaming, “Your body…”

He couldn’t finish his sentence; his throat seized up again, unable to produce any sound, and he could only jump around like a foolish frog.

Don’t say it.

Tanyin’s dark eyes gazed at him quietly.

Little Yuan Zhong read the same pleading look in her eyes as he had seen days before.

Why?

He still didn’t understand, but his waving hands slowly fell to his sides.

His expression turned sorrowful, and he turned away, leaving silently.

Yuan Zhong, sitting under the tree, did not look up.

His gray glass-bead eyes stared blankly into the distance.

He heard someone gently stepping on the grass, the familiar, intoxicating scent enveloping him.

Someone slowly squatted beside him and whispered, “I finally found you.”

One came before, the other after.

They both knew that the final destination would be here; he waited with certainty, and she arrived with determination.

Perhaps this was another dream.

In recent days, he had dreamed countless such dreams, unable to distinguish between day and night.

Was it real?

Was it fake?

He couldn’t see her face, those black gemstone-like eyes, hiding a spring breeze-like smile that always conveyed unspoken affection.

Yuan Zhong closed his eyes and slowly leaned his body against her shoulder, murmuring softly, “Hold me.”

A soft warmth enveloped him.

Her hair brushed against his neck, her cold and smooth cheek caressed his, and she embraced him by biting her sleeve around his shoulders.

I’m sorry, I can’t hold you.

“Are you waiting for me?”

“Yes.”

“…Do you know everything?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have anything to say?”

Yuan Zhong remained silent for a long time, so long that she thought he wouldn’t respond.

Then he suddenly spoke, “If you want my left hand, I will give it to you.”

“Don’t do that,” she shook her head.

“Then say you like me,” his voice became fervent again.

This familiar dialogue had appeared countless times in his dreams.

She had never said anything.

He felt like a monkey chasing the moon, blindly believing and pursuing.

He had been to countless places, met countless people, and played with countless beauties, but his heart always remained on the Guixuan Terrace, in her eyes.

How long would this fervent emotion last?

You like me, but you are unwilling to say so.

Even now, you still won’t say it.

Suddenly, a few drops of water fell onto his lips, tasting bitterly salty—it was tears.

“I love you,” she said softly, her voice trembling.

This was the first time, and perhaps the last, “Yuan Zhong, I love you.”