At this moment, wind and smoke were completely still, the room full of ink fragrance, and his body also became as rigid as iron. At the same time, I also stiffened along with him. For the next period, neither of us moved, time and all things completely motionless, with only falling plum blossoms drifting down in desolation.

“What are you doing?” He turned around, confused.

I quickly let go and stood properly and obediently. Just then, from the opposite mountain peak, refined people were playing phoenix-headed harp, with gold markers and jade tuning pegs, clouds rising and snow flying, disturbing one’s heart even more. I also wanted to know what I was doing. Having no relation to Shahai, why did I suddenly run to embrace him and say such confused words?

Seeing I wouldn’t answer, Shahai smiled: “Wait, you haven’t fallen for me, have you?”

“No, I haven’t at all,” I said firmly.

“That’s good. I’ve never spoken from the heart—what I had with you before was just lip service and play. Don’t take it seriously. Otherwise, my wife and I might have to battle for days and nights.”

“What, you’re already married?”

“At my age, how could I not have a wife?” He smiled neither warmly nor coldly. “Don’t tell me you think because I’m ugly, no one would want me?”

“Of course not…”

He put on his mask, shook his head meaningfully, and walked out, leaving me standing there like a fool. In the distance, the zither played thrice, with mournful sounds and broken strings. Listening to that heart-wrenching, blood-weeping melody, I was nearly driven to tears by my impulsive stupidity.

What was this? A mere water spirit wanting to harbor compassionate feelings and sympathize with a demon far stronger than herself? And thus developing emotion resembling romantic feelings, truly closing the door to building a cart, being too clever by half.

After this day’s lesson, I quite soberly kept my distance from Shahai, speaking much more formally than before. But what I couldn’t understand was why he wanted to stay on Mount Kunlun? Did he come with some purpose, or did he simply want to accompany me? If the latter, then he said he had a wife and told me not to take it seriously… Could he want to play at a dew-drop romance with me? What a despicable man—frivolous and shameless.

However, I was still somewhat curious about those strange markings on his face. Fortunately, we were on Mount Kunlun, one of the immortal realm’s greatest repositories of books. Later, I went to the library pavilion every day, holding books and sitting in secluded courtyards along winding paths, searching for the reason behind them.

Unfortunately, the demon realm remained a domain full of mysteries for immortals. In Kunlun’s collection, records about demons were always missing pages and incomplete sections. About Shahai, even more so. According to Emperor Fusheng, this fellow should be a newly appointed Demon Lord. But regardless, there should be some record of him. Yet no matter which book I searched, I couldn’t find his name. Could he have given us a false name?

One morning, while flipping through “Chronicle of a Thousand Demons” and muttering to myself, “This is too mysterious.”

“What matter is so mysterious?”

Someone had approached so close without my knowledge—it seemed Mount Kunlun truly was full of experts. Turning around, I saw an elder standing behind me. He wore gold-trimmed snow robes, held a whisk, had kind eyebrows and gentle eyes, quite the immortal bearing, though I couldn’t sense his immortal aura—he must be deliberately concealing it. I said: “Oh… I just recently saw someone who looked rather strange, and I wanted to find the reason…”

The elder said, “Oh? What was it?”

Considering this place might harbor hidden dangers for Shahai, I lied and said I’d encountered such a person in the desert, describing the markings on his face and his midnight madness. The elder laughed heartily: “This isn’t a demon’s mark, but a heavenly punishment mark. His midnight behavior you described also completely matches heavenly punishment.”

“Heavenly punishment mark? This person suffered heavenly punishment?”

“So-called heavenly punishment marks aren’t divine beings punishing him. One could say that if this person previously held a high, immortal, or divine position and swore oaths to the heavens, the pure qi in his primordial spirit would never dissipate. When he fell to become a demon, the turbid qi and pure qi clashed and could not coexist, thus disturbing his mind and destroying his appearance. Night is when demonic power peaks—if he hasn’t adapted to demonic evil qi, transforming like that is reasonable.”

I suddenly understood. So the reason I couldn’t find records of Shahai was because he was previously from the upper realm. Then, the Drought Demon saying he possessed divine power and mistaking him for Divine Lord Yinze—this question was also suddenly resolved. However, I didn’t know why the Drought Demon would think he was Yinze. Yinze was proud and arrogant—how could he possibly fall into the demon realm? I said: “Will those marks always accompany him?”

“Yes. And they’ll only increase until he dies.”

I couldn’t help but feel alarmed: “This means he’ll never have a good life?”

“In these times of constant warfare, many immortals have fallen to the demonic path, but they’re all those who never swore oaths. Immortals who knowingly walk into tiger territory are indeed rare.”

“Sigh, all because of this cursed drought. Who knows when it will end?”

The elder smiled with closed eyes, slowly stroking his beard: “Swift as a horse passing the window, awaiting with raised foot.”

“Really?” I rejoiced and stood up from my chair. “Has the upper realm already found the cause of the drought and a way to manage it?”

The elder smiled without speaking, extending both hands. His right hand produced a writing brush, his left became a piece of cowhide. He ground ink with dew and plant juice, dipped the brush tip in ink, and dotted several points in the middle of the cowhide. As I stood there like a flat-billed duck crossing a river unable to find bottom, he stopped and said: “Look, are these dots close together?”

I nodded. He wrapped the cowhide around his fist like making a glove, gripping his wrist, then pulled his hand out and blew into the sleeve. It puffed up like a ball. He pointed to the dots he’d made earlier: “Look, are these dots still as close together?”

I shook my head: “They’re much farther apart.”

“This is the cause of the drought. All gods know it, yet are powerless to act.”

I used my thumb to fidget with my chin, staring blankly at this leather ball: “This ball represents?”

“The universe isn’t stationary but continuously expanding.”

I see—he was using this ball to represent the universe. Since the universe constantly expands, mountains and waterways do the same. Then I took the brush and drew a long line on the ball, imagining what would happen if it continued expanding. The elder blew more air inside. The ball continued enlarging, and that wet ink line consequently split into pieces. I clapped: “Could it be that all water flows in this world are like this ink line—riverbeds increase but water volume can’t support them, so drought occurs…”

The elder said approvingly, “The little girl is quite clever. If the world’s water continues depleting, everything will collapse.”

“Really, this serious? But didn’t you just say the drought’s end was imminent?”

Who knew he’d respond with something completely unrelated: “Gods indeed possess infinite life, yet with healthy sun and moon, orderly stars, yin and yang five elements cycling endlessly, they too must return to all things.”

I truly didn’t understand this meaning, only grasping one thing: gods and demons were truly different. I sighed: “At such times, the demon realm still provokes the divine realm—I don’t know what they’re thinking. Hasn’t Zixiu considered that doing this might cause even himself to vanish into smoke?”

“Demons are inherently representatives of disorder. What gives the world life is infants; what destroys the world is often innocence in one’s nature. Zixiu isn’t bad by nature—just a willful child. He’s also strong; otherwise, he wouldn’t have become the Demon Lord so young. Unfortunately, he has a king’s heroic heart but lacks a sage’s bearing.”

“He commits such evil deeds, yet you still praise him—I think you’re the one with a sage’s bearing.”

The elder still wore a benevolent smile and didn’t respond.

We chatted a while longer before he transformed into auspicious clouds and departed. I was thinking how Mount Kunlun truly had many worldly experts—even an unknown old immortal was so wise, truly benefiting me greatly—when several Taoist-robed immortals hurried over: “Miss, did you happen to see the Celestial Lord pass through here?”

“Celestial Lord?” I swallowed. “Could it be… Primordial Celestial Lord?”

“Yes, we saw auspicious clouds appear here from the mountain foot—that should be the Celestial Lord’s manifestation…”

Cangying God, who exactly had I been talking with…

I went back in panic for two days, thinking this was terrible—Primordial Celestial Lord might have guessed Shahai was here, and I’d harmed Shahai badly. However, after two days, Shahai remained peacefully on Kunlun, giving me cold looks at fixed times daily or teasing me for a few sentences.

Now I had no more resistance toward him, and admiration arose spontaneously. Enduring heavenly punishment’s torment and the danger of being eliminated by immortals, yet still flirting with women—such perseverance couldn’t be possessed by ordinary mortals.

Since encountering the Primordial Celestial Lord, I felt even more that Kunlun was a treasure land, so I decided to stay and pursue learning diligently before returning to benefit Suzhao. But staying like this, Xuanyue probably couldn’t bear it, so I let it return to Suzhao first. Sushu had been feeling unwell again recently, and Xihe felt extremely bored, so she wanted to drag Sushu back.

I wasn’t comfortable with Xihe leaving alone and wanted to escort her personally, but Shahai volunteered to help me escort them. I’d become quite distrustful of him recently, but he dropped a line that left me speechless: “If I wanted to harm you, would I need to wait until today?”

So Xihe, Sushu, and Xuanyue were entrusted to Shahai. Before their departure, seeing Sushu’s poor complexion, I worried: “Sushu, are you alright? I’m very uneasy seeing you like this. Why not recuperate on Kunlun for a while before leaving?”

Sushu smiled, his lips pale: “Actually, I’ve always found it puzzling. Originally, my cultivation was insufficient to transform into human form, but after that heavy snow over twenty years ago, I suddenly gained this ability… It’s just that this isn’t my spiritual power after all. I’ve been living off reserves these years and feel I can’t last much longer…”

I said anxiously, “Why didn’t you mention such an important matter earlier?”

“I simply didn’t want to be looked down upon by the Little Princess.”

“No, I should go with you after all.”

I prepared to return to my room to pack, but he held me back: “Don’t. The Little Princess has always been busy with myriad affairs in Suzhao—you’ve rarely decided to stay on Kunlun, and it’s not for selfish reasons. Stay a while longer. I promise that when spring warms and flowers bloom next year, I’ll await the Little Princess’s return in Moon City.”

Since he spoke this way, and it wasn’t far from the year’s beginning, I had my daughter convey word to Second Sister to take extra care of Sushu, then remained on Kunlun, continuing my studies. After some time, Shahai returned from escorting them and amazingly remained as before, accompanying me reading in pavilions, walking in mountains, occasionally taking me down the mountain to taste mountain delicacies—thoroughly idle.

He still entered a demon state every night. Seeing him suffer so, I felt extremely sad. But aside from fetching water to wipe his sweat after he calmed down, I was powerless. He didn’t mind this, always acting as if nothing happened the next day.

In the blink of an eye, winter passed and early spring arrived. Calculating time, after staying a few more days, I should bid farewell to Shahai and return to Suzhao to reunite with family and sweep Brother’s grave. One afternoon, someone suddenly told me a person claiming to be my senior brother had come seeking audience and was waiting in Wanying Valley. I found this strange—why would a senior brother from Tianshi City come to see me at this season? But I still put down my brush and went to Wanying Valley.

March cherry blossoms bloomed profusely across the mountains, condensing into great masses of rosy clouds and powder. At the horizon’s far edge stood emerald-peaked watchtowers, while nearby only red cherries filled the view, fallen flowers like sleet, even the road paved into a long, continuous pink satin.

Treading on this soft brocade, I walked deep into the cherry fields and saw from afar several young men standing there, each with ethereal robes, transcendent as immortals. They chatted freely, and one person’s silhouette made me suddenly awaken, stopping in my tracks.

He wore a white egret feather crown, lotus-like robes flowing like clouds, his figure straight and tall. With every step and gesture, his sleeves flowed like mist and clouds. He occasionally turned his head to speak with others, but beneath the ornate crown, a long fringe covered half his face, revealing only his nose tip, seemingly carved from white jade.

Though his attire wasn’t familiar and I couldn’t see his full face, many familiar things never change.

Like having my heartstrings violently plucked, affecting even my finger nerves, the palm covering my nose and mouth trembled.

Before long, the others all departed on swords, leaving only him. The man stood with his back to me, cupping his hands to bid farewell to his colleagues. Just then, a spring breeze arose, accompanied by floral fragrance and dew, disturbing my fleeting thoughts.

In the chaotic cherry blossom rain, his dark hair and misty robes also fluttered in the wind, forming a breathtakingly beautiful ink painting scroll.

Instantly, my heart filled with mixed emotions, trembling with reverence, not daring to move at all, fearing that disturbing him would cause him to transform into light smoke and disappear into the cherry field depths. I even thought that even if the face that turned around wasn’t the familiar one, just being able to see this silhouette in half the spring light would be better than nothing.

Time passed so slowly, yet also flashed by instantly. Finally, he turned around, raising his eyes to gaze at the long road ahead. I had just imagined what strange face this person might have, what different eyes, but the moment our gazes met, I nearly fell to my knees.

Though we were far apart and I couldn’t see his expression clearly, I knew that his moving brow tips were already showing me his habitual smile. At this point, I dared not move even more. Because I knew in my heart that either I was under an illusion or dreaming.

This couldn’t possibly be real, no matter what.

The wind grew stronger, spring warmth mixing gently with flowers, hazily buffeting both our faces. Pink flower rain made his features appear and disappear intermittently. The white egret feathers on his crown trembled, and the immortal sash on his robes was swept high into the sky, as if he’d be pulled into the heavens the next moment.

But when the wind stopped and the flowers settled, he still stood there, not having disappeared.

His smile became more obvious, yet made me more confused—was this an illusion, a dream, or…

Holding onto the last trace of nearly desperate hope, I called out in a timid voice: “…Bro…Brother?”

“Weiwei.”

His voice was melodious as silk and bamboo, so real that I began to believe this wasn’t an illusion. Precisely because of this, I felt afraid. Because if he disappeared again, I probably would… I saw him treading the stone path covered with fallen flowers, striding toward me. Reluctantly taking one last look at him, I vigorously rubbed my eyes for a long time, thinking this time I wouldn’t see things anymore. But when I lowered my hands, I found he was standing before me. I said: “Who are you? Why are you disguised as my brother?”

“After revival, my first thought was to find you, so I returned to Suzhao first. I didn’t expect you weren’t there—instead, a lovely girl popped out calling me uncle.”

He spoke quite logically, treating such a momentous matter like saying, “I had porridge this morning and gnawed on a steamed bun.” Hearing him say these things, I could hardly believe my ears. But I didn’t dare interrupt him. Now I only thought, even if it was false, I was willing to believe it for this moment.

“Xihe said you were on Kunlun, so I specially came to Kunlun. I really can’t believe you’d run off alone to such a distant…” He paused, reaching up to rub his head. “What, seeing brother return, you stare wide-eyed without a bit of happiness?”

I grabbed his hand. This hand was warm, had body temperature, was flexible—not the rigid ice block I’d touched in the snow that year. I cupped this hand in both mine, threading my fingers through his, interlocking with him, then said hoarsely: “Quickly give me a slap.”

He asked in confusion: “Why?”

“Quickly wake me up, otherwise when I wake up I’ll be sad for a long time again.”

I grabbed his hand and slapped my face twice with it, but he broke free and instead pulled me into his arms. He sighed: “I’m sorry—I was rash back then. But the Heavenly Emperor said I had prior merit and created a new immortal body for me. Now I no longer have a demon bloodline, so there’s no more danger. I won’t participate in warfare anymore either. Wherever Weiwei is, that’s where I’ll be.”

I looked up, staring at him blankly for a long time: “You… are Brother?”

“Yes.”

“Brother…” I buried my head in his embrace, and before long had cried his lapels wet, unable to say anything except repeatedly calling “Brother.”

He also said no more, only reaching out to gently stroke my hair, silently comforting me as in childhood. The difference was that we’d both matured greatly—my hair had whitened, and he no longer wore a coffin face commanding “Weiwei mustn’t cry.”

At this moment, I only heard low laughter lingering around my ears, like a vow telling of a hundred years of future companionship.

Since Brother had returned, I needed to plan properly for what came next. I brought him to sit in a pavilion clustered with flowering trees and had a heart-to-heart talk for nearly an hour, telling him about everything that had happened to Suzhao over these forty years. I was enthusiastically chatting about Emperor Fusheng’s illusion and the Kingdom of Liuhuang Feng’s spirit pearl when he suddenly interrupted: “Where did Master go?”

“That’s not important—what I want to say is, that spirit pearl…”

I had wanted to redirect the topic, but he frowned: “Since you’ve both married and had children, he shouldn’t disappear for so long. Where did he go?”

“That spirit pearl…”

“Weiwei, answer my question.”

I slumped my shoulders and sighed deeply: “Fine. We never married. I haven’t seen him for as long as you and I haven’t met.”

He said in shock: “What? Then Xihe…”

“Xihe was raised by my own hands.” Seeing his indignant expression, I waved my hand: “Alright, Brother, it’s been so many years—I don’t care anymore, so you needn’t pursue it further.”

“So these forty years, you’ve been alone?”

“No, Second Sister is still alive.” After waiting a moment and seeing him stare at me motionlessly, I suddenly understood and made a wiping-sweat gesture: “Fine, I was alone—I never married.”

“Why not marry? Never met someone who moved your heart?”

Perhaps he was just asking casually, perhaps with other intent, but I was silent only briefly before laughing generously: “Of course not—I’m not made of stone. But I truly never had thoughts of marriage. Maybe my luck only extends this far—I never met anyone who treated me better than Brother. So I’d rather spend my days accompanying Brother’s grave than consider growing old with someone else.”

He seemed unaffected but spoke with particular caution: “You’ve always seen me as closest kin—why would you compare me with a future husband?”

I twirled a flower several times and smiled: “Isn’t a husband also closest kin?”

“Weiwei, do you know what you’re saying?”

Lifting my gaze from the flower to observe his eyes, I gently nodded once. Brother had always been extremely perceptive and quick-witted, but due to his strict, self-disciplined nature, he often stopped himself from impulsive actions. But this time was different—just after I nodded, he leaned over, his lips landing on mine light as feathers. My heartbeat skipped, yet I sensed he was already kissing me repeatedly like a dragonfly touching water.

If I hadn’t guessed wrong, this should be Brother’s second kiss. Because his inexperience this time was no different from the first time at Fahua Cherry Field. I suddenly felt a dull pain in my chest. Such an untainted, pure Brother was the one who had always silently waited for me—why did I always repeatedly fall for bad men?

I gripped his lapels, lifting my head to respond to him with equal gentleness. He held my hand to his chest and, without any teaching, tilted his head and kissed deeper and deeper…

Branches sparse and distant, willow catkins dancing. Heaven fell to earth, full of idle sorrow. When this long kiss ended, Brother’s breathing was somewhat unsteady, yet he firmly said: “Weiwei, let’s return to Suzhao to marry.”

This sentence—which no amount of crying, begging, or even pregnancy could get me to hear from Yinze—I heard so simply from Brother. If not for Xihe being so lovable, missing so many years with Brother was truly my greatest regret…

We embraced in the pavilion all afternoon before slowly returning to my lodgings. After the discussion, we decided to leave Kunlun early and return to Suzhao for the wedding. The only thing I needed to do was bid farewell to Shahai—I just didn’t know if inviting him to the wedding would be appropriate. But returning to find such concerns unnecessary.

Because Shahai had left. His few belongings had been taken away, with only some attendants cleaning the room.

Leaving without saying goodbye was quite like his style. I just hadn’t expected that for the rest of my life, I would never see him again.