“Biyi birds cannot fly unless paired. When they fly, they stop to drink and eat together, never separating… even in death and rebirth, they must be in one place.” He spoke eloquently: “Biyi flowers are probably similar to Biyi birds. I heard this tree only blooms once every hundred years, and only those with destiny can see it flower. And those who see it bloom…” He suddenly stopped speaking.

Qinghua Xianzi asked: “What happens to them?”

Gu Caiyu fidgeted awkwardly, lowering his head embarrassedly: “They will be together for life, never to be separated.”

“I could chop off your head and refine your bones into spirit artifacts – that would make you inseparable from me for life.” Qinghua Xianzi stared at him.

Gu Caiyu coughed lightly: “It’s just a legend, don’t take it seriously.”

Qinghua Xianzi glared at him, then bent down to pick up a Biyi flower that had been blown to the ground by the wind. The fire-colored phoenix rested on her fingertip, and perhaps touched by this brilliant and intense color, she looked at the flower and smiled slightly.

Gu Caiyu was stunned by the sight.

After this, the days continued as usual.

But Gu Caiyu no longer started new carpentry projects, nor did he write those sickeningly sweet poems. He became obsessed with painting.

He painted Qinghua Xianzi, and didn’t dare to paint openly, but did so secretly, only daring to quickly add a few strokes when Qinghua Xianzi went out to practice swordwork or break the barrier. Sometimes he would add an emerald hairpin, sometimes a cloud-like hem of her dress. Sometimes he would draw the brilliant red flower at her fingertips, sometimes those bright and moving yet slightly cold eyes.

He painted meticulously, and the crack in the barrier grew larger and larger. Perhaps it wouldn’t be long before they could get out.

Zanxing saw a brilliant light appearing in the deep night.

Gu Caiyu’s voice rang out under the Biyi flower tree: “Fairy, fairy, come out and look quickly!”

The white-clothed woman walked out of the thatched cottage. The giant tree in the wilderness was hung with colorful paper lanterns, their light illuminating the long field brightly. At the distant edge of the sky, fireworks bloomed in the night sky, a sky full of splendor, beautiful beyond compare. The man’s voice sounded with some teasing laughter: “Bright lanterns like fire trees of silver, blazing white branches shining brilliantly.”

“Boring.”

“How can it be called boring?” Gu Caiyu’s voice remained bright: “Every day, I carve a mark with my knife on the pillar by this wall. Counting the time, half a year has passed, and today is New Year’s Eve. Even in this secret realm, we can’t forget customs. Look, aren’t the fireworks beautiful?”

Qinghua Xianzi looked into the distance.

Those fireworks noisily rushed into the night sky, scattering a field of colorful stars over the wilderness.

She said indifferently: “They’re just illusions, what’s so beautiful about them?”

“The fairy also knows illusion techniques?” Gu Caiyu was surprised.

“Illusion techniques are tricks used by the demon race to bewitch hearts – they’re eye tricks with no attack power. Ordinary cultivators wouldn’t deign to practice them. How did you learn them?”

“They have no attack power, but young ladies like them.” Gu Caiyu said with a grin.

Qinghua Xianzi turned to stare at him.

He touched his nose, then looked up at the night sky, speaking seriously: “Illusion techniques are simple, yet mortals are especially prone to falling for them. This only shows they can indeed strike at the most vulnerable parts of people’s hearts. For instance, the fireworks are fake, but my mood wanting to see fireworks at this moment is real. The illusion is fake, but the yearning felt in that moment is real.”

“In a person’s life, there will be many moments so painful that one doesn’t want to face reality. Someone who lives as clearly as the fairy might someday also need this kind of false illusion for comfort.”

“Nonsense,” Qinghua Xianzi said coldly: “How could I need such things?”

“That’s not necessarily true,” Gu Caiyu stroked the chicken’s head in his arms: “Life is very long, we’re only at the beginning.”

Qinghua Xianzi said nothing more, only raising her head to look at those distant lights. The Biyi flowers bloomed luxuriantly, as if they would continue swaying so passionately forever.

Then the scenes became chaotic, accompanied by various noisy sounds.

She heard the sound of clashing swords and weapons, saw what seemed like many people fighting on a battlefield, and Qinghua Xianzi appeared to be injured. She saw the white-haired Shaoyang Zhenren sitting by Qinghua Xianzi’s bedside, sighing: “You should treat it as a dream like flowers in a mirror and moon in water, and forget the past.”

“A dream like flowers in a mirror and moon in water…” Zanxing saw Qinghua Xianzi lower her eyes, her voice calm: “No.”

She said, “I will never forget.”

Zanxing saw Qinghua Xianzi select a blue long staff from the spirit artifact vault. She planted a Biyi flower in Xiaoyao Hall, used illusions to make all the Biyi flowers bloom, like those fire-colored phoenixes in the wilderness. She practiced staff techniques under the flower tree, flower petals and staff wind intertwining together, finally rippling out layers of moonlight.

Finally achieving Jing Hua Shui Yue.

Those scenes flashed rapidly through Zanxing’s mind like a revolving lantern. She saw Qinghua Xianzi in Xiaoyao Hall, molding two crude clay figurines with mud. She placed one figurine under the Biyi flower tree, and the radiance on her blue staff grew brighter day by day.

She saw Qinghua Xianzi place “Qing E Nian Hua Gun” on the bookshelf in the martial arts hall.

So that’s how it was.

Zanxing suddenly understood.

She had once thought “Qing E Nian Hua Gun” was simply a technique created by Qinghua Xianzi, the heaven’s pride daughter, nothing more. But now, in this Biyi flower, she learned of many past connections. Gu Caiyu, bearing the surname “Gu,” was most likely Gu Baiying’s father, Qinghua Xianzi’s mysterious beloved.

Jing Hua Shui Yue referred to those days spent with Gu Caiyu as fragile and elusive as flowers in a mirror and moon in water. The fire trees and silver flowers were nothing more than a remembrance of that brilliant false firework display in the wilderness years ago. Perhaps there was even more – every move and stance of this technique was intimately connected to Gu Caiyu. It was “comfort” that Qinghua Xianzi created to remember her beloved.

Since it was comfort, it was filled with tender feelings everywhere, sincerity everywhere, gentleness everywhere, and regret everywhere.

She had indeed never truly comprehended this heart technique, precisely because this heart technique was never meant for her to see from the beginning.

Now Qinghua Xianzi’s wisp of divine consciousness remained in the beautiful painting. The divine maiden was gone, the past difficult to find – but what about Gu Caiyu? That man who built a thatched cottage in the wilderness, whose face couldn’t be seen clearly, yet whose bright smile could always be glimpsed?

All the scenes suddenly contracted, chaotic white gradually filling her vision.

All the noisy sounds slowly faded away, the brilliant colors retreated, and that red Biyi flower remained in her palm, but it was no longer the fresh and vivid appearance of just moments ago. It had become withered, its bright color turning deep and somber, its wings that yearned to fly drooping powerlessly.

Without knowing when, it had already withered.

“You saw.” The woman’s voice was cold and indifferent.

Zanxing raised her head. Qinghua Xianzi looked down at her, her gaze complex, completely different from the previous emptiness.