Chapter 52

Before him lay boundless darkness, with faint, sickly green flames like tears falling from the void.

The path underfoot was straight and narrow, flanked by shadows of red flowers, and the sound of murmuring water faintly emerged from the gloom—where was this?

Yuan Zhong stood quietly, his heart vague yet hesitant.

Should he continue forward?

He had a sense that if he did, he would lose something—those lingering attachments, the vague figure in his mind, would all be completely forgotten.

Who had he once yearned for?

The sorrowful yet sweet, unforgettable tender emotions.

In the darkness, a drifting voice seemed to answer his confused thoughts: “Move forward, and do not hold any regrets.”

But he still could not recall that person.

Had he loved them deeply?

“Everything has ended. This is your final resting place, and it will also be the place where you forget everything and start anew.”

He wasn’t ready to leave.

Could he stay a little longer?

It felt like he was about to grasp the fragmented scenes in his mind—the snow-white robes, the pitch-black hair, and those soul-stirring, cold eyes.

Was that someone he had loved?

“This is the place where love, hatred, and resentment come to an end. What has existed will eventually vanish, and what vanishes will also be forgotten by the world. Forget everything and move toward your new beginning. This bowl of water will wash away all your sorrows and troubles.”

A pair of slender, white hands emerged from the darkness, holding a crystal bowl.

The water in the bowl was clear and still, without a ripple.

Yuan Zhong felt as though he were in a dream.

He slowly took the cold crystal bowl, which was unexpectedly heavy.

As he moved, the clear water within rippled, and the once clear liquid suddenly seemed to contain countless images, its colors blending and dazzling.

His entire life was contained within this bowl of multicolored water.

The red was the blood of those he had killed; the green was the clusters of trees in the small world; the white was the falling snow; the pink was the eternally blooming flowers; the brown was the fragrant wood he had held; and the black was the dense hair of a person and the color of their clear eyes beneath it.

“Drink it and forget,” the ethereal voice tempted him.

As if bewitched, Yuan Zhong raised the crystal bowl to his lips.

The water was ice-cold, and approaching it felt as though countless whispers were close by.

He wearily closed his eyes, tilting his wrist slightly, allowing the cold water to touch his lips.

A soft voice suddenly sounded from behind him: “Yuan Zhong, do not drink.”

This extremely gentle voice, upon entering his ears, was more shocking than the loudest thunder.

Yuan Zhong’s wrist trembled, and half the bowl of water spilled onto the ground, turning to nothingness.

He spun around abruptly and saw a girl in white standing quietly in the darkness, with eyes like black jewels.

In that moment, all his confused emotions converged into his soul.

He realized there were countless things he wanted to say to her, but he hadn’t had the chance.

He had thought he would hate, envy, and ask her who Taihe was?

He had imagined cutting off his left hand and giving it to her, using her tears and regrets to mend his broken heart.

But at this moment, all that was irrelevant.

The feelings of the sixty-year cycle were reciprocated; they finally stood on equal ground.

He had never regretted meeting her on the Guixuan terrace.

His once naive life had found true meaning, and he had no regrets in death.

Yuan Zhong quickly walked toward her, but no matter how fast he ran or jumped, he couldn’t reach her.

The ethereal voice suddenly rose, tinged with irritation: “This is the realm of reincarnation. Even a goddess has no right to intrude. Please leave immediately!”

Reincarnation realm?

Had he already died?

Yuan Zhong couldn’t help but look down at his body.

He was so pale and transparent, like a lingering image floating in mid-air.

He was truly dead!

His running steps slowly halted, and he gazed quietly at Tanyin, suddenly smiling slightly and whispering, “Is this not a dream? Are you here?”

Had she come for him?

She too was floating in mid-air, her sleeves and garment covering her limbs, looking even more like a ghost than he did.

Yet her eyes clearly held a star, gentle and bright, looking directly at him.

“It’s not a dream,” her voice was like the warm wind of March in the forest.

Yuan Zhong’s gaze held a touch of fervor, but his voice grew softer: “Can you repeat what you said before?”

Tanyin paused for a moment, then suddenly shook her head: “I won’t say it here. If you want to hear it, come back with me. In the small cave, I can say it as many times as you want, for a lifetime if needed.”

A lifetime… Yuan Zhong’s heart suddenly felt a pang of sorrow.

She had promised to stay with him forever until death arrived, and now, he was already dead.

He also shook his head slowly and said gently, “Tanyin, I will wait for you here. I won’t drink the Forgetfulness Water. If you don’t come, I won’t leave.”

Tanyin’s face showed a layer of anxiety: “No, come with me. You can still live a long time. Don’t stay here!”

“The time above will come to an end,” Yuan Zhong looked at her tenderly.

“I want endless time with you.”

Her anxiety grew more intense.

She urged, “Don’t stay here, okay? Leave with me!”

Why was she so fixated on life and death?

Most of his life had been spent in sorrow, and only the final moments had suddenly been filled with color and sound.

He had no attachment to the human world; there was no forever there, and everything had an end.

He only wanted eternity with her.

The ethereal voice once again echoed: “She is a goddess, and after death does not enter reincarnation. Thus, she wishes to take you back to the mortal realm. To destroy the path of reincarnation for personal gain will bring a calamity of dark fire and soul scattering!”

Yuan Zhong’s face changed drastically.

He saw for the first time that Tanyin’s usually gentle eyes were filled with hostility and aggression.

Her wide sleeves spread like wings, enveloping his body, and she turned and flew through the blood-red flowers.

The sickly green flames fell behind her, and the owner of the slender hands in the darkness did not pursue them.

Only the voice echoed in the void: “You have little time left. I do not pursue you; take care of yourself.”

A cluster of shadowy flames shot out of the darkness, striking Tanyin’s back.

She inhaled sharply but did not stop, continuing to fly down the straight but endless path.

Golden flecks trailed behind her garments, and her half-body seemed as soft and dispersible as a cloud, gradually becoming translucent.

The shadowy dark fire within her leaped fiercely, devouring the last remnants of her divine power.

She suddenly looked down and smiled at him.

Ji Tanyin had always been awkward and silly, her smiles either outdated or foolish.

But now, she smiled with a hint of mischief, as if to say: “This is the first time I’ve dared to do something bad.”

Yuan Zhong stared at her in shock and suddenly reached out to tightly embrace her slender form.

She was dispersing, like flowing sand.

Soul scattering?

Why didn’t she tell him!

The most painful thing in the world was being left behind.

Was she forcing him to watch her die, leaving him alone with nowhere to go?

“Don’t forget me,” Tanyin whispered in his ear, her voice growing fainter, “I will come back. For you, I will return. Live well and wait for me.”

She gave him a strong push, and Yuan Zhong found himself surrounded by blazing white light.

Her face became blurry in the white light, and he could no longer see her.

He desperately stretched out his arm, touching only a sliver of her skin that had turned to golden flecks.

Her last words deeply penetrated his ears: “I love you. I have always loved you.”

He fell heavily onto something hard.

Instinctively, he sat up and saw a world of blooming flowers before him.

The newly budding willow trees swayed gently in the breeze, and the distant mountains and rivers were shrouded in mist. It was the familiar human world he knew, his small cave—was it all just a dream?

His body no longer ached but felt refreshed.

He tore away the blood-soaked bandages on his chest, and the fatal wound seemed to have never existed.

His heart beat steadily, and he could smell the fragrance of flowers and feel the warmth of sunlight on his hair.

He was alive… he had come back to life!

What about Tanyin?!

Yuan Zhong jumped up suddenly, looking around frantically like a helpless child.

The small world was empty, and the snow-white figure was nowhere to be seen.

It was as if she had never existed in this world, silently disappearing, leaving only the Qiankun bag and the mended body to remind him that she had truly existed and loved him deeply.

The courtyard gate was pushed open, and Little Yuan Zhong, with a face full of sadness and loneliness, led Little Erji out to bask in the sun.

Both were made of wood, and if they didn’t get enough sun, they would eventually mildew. But mildew didn’t sound so bad; perhaps it was another form of death’s end, better than being left alone in this sorrowful place, only left to reflect on Yuan Zhong and his master’s things.

“Master is gone, and Big Zhong is dead too,” he lamented to Little Erji, regardless of whether it understood or not.

“From now on, it’s just the two of us in this small world. You dumb thing can’t even say a word… Sigh, let’s go see Big Zhong. At least he’s immortal and won’t decay. Leaving a body is something to cling to…”

As he reached the small garden, a gust of wind suddenly roared by, scattering flowers and confusing his eyes.

Little Yuan Zhong quickly used his sleeve to shield Little Erji from the wind.

Unlike him, Little Erji wasn’t made with such precision.

If a flower petal or twig got into its eyes, it might become immobile, and although this fool didn’t speak, it could at least move.

If it couldn’t move at all, even the greatest mechanical man would be unfortunate.

“If Big Zhong were still alive, I wouldn’t have to worry about these things,” Little Yuan Zhong murmured, suddenly feeling like crying.

Mechanical men couldn’t shed tears, so he could only make a distressed face with a hint of a sob.

“Big Zhong, that useless thing, an immortal who just dies when told! The master too, as soon as Big Zhong died, she ran off. She didn’t seem like such a heartless person!”

He looked sorrowfully at the cold stone platform where Yuan Zhong’s body had been placed.

To his surprise, the platform was empty.

Under the pear blossom tree on the opposite side, Yuan Zhong was quietly standing, holding the master’s Qiankun bag, with petals falling all over him.

Little Yuan Zhong, shocked, gaped in disbelief.

Big Zhong?!

He was alive?!

Or was it a resurrection?!

He had clearly died, beyond any doubt, confirmed repeatedly!

Even an immortal shouldn’t be able to come back to life, right?!

“B-Big Zhong…” he called out tremulously.

Yuan Zhong turned to him with a desolate expression.

The white figure following Little Yuan Zhong instantly captured all his attention, but upon closer inspection, it was only Little Erji.

He remembered the night on the frozen lake when Tanyin had secretly tampered with Little Erji, which had given him so many surprises.

But where was she now?

Would she come again one day to play another trick?

Seeing that Yuan Zhong remained motionless, Little Yuan Zhong grew anxious and waved his hands urgently, “Big Zhong! Is that you? Speak quickly! Is it really a resurrection?”

Before he could finish, Yuan Zhong turned and quickly walked toward him.

Little Yuan Zhong, terrified, stumbled back, but saw Yuan Zhong lift Little Erji into his arms, burying his face in her hair.

Tears fell in large drops down the dark hair.

This was the first time Little Yuan Zhong had seen Yuan Zhong cry.

It was silent and soundless, with only the large tears falling, as if they would never stop.