The entrance to Miaokong Hall was empty.

Xuan Lingzi had gone down the mountain to clear his mind and hadn’t returned, and the young servant in the hall wasn’t there either. Tian Fangfang and Mu Cengxiao were still busy with cultivation after guiding the new disciples, and Liu Yunxin had now moved to Yueqin’s hall—there were mostly women in Yueqin’s hall, so she could occasionally learn some small spells.

Originally, he had only felt that his Xiaoyao Hall was cold and quiet, but now he suddenly discovered that the formerly lively and bustling Miaokong Hall had somehow also become lonely.

Gu Baiying lingered for a moment at the entrance of Miaokong Hall before finally walking in.

After Zanxing left, he rarely came here.

It wasn’t that he was unwilling—probably he didn’t dare.

Just like when Xuan Lingzi wanted to sculpt a golden statue of Zanxing in the main hall, he firmly refused. It was as if by doing so, he could deny the fact that Zanxing was no longer here, rejecting that difficult-to-accept truth.

Mingxiu Courtyard remained the same as before. Xuan Lingzi had the servants clean and sweep daily. The peach-colored bedding and gauze curtains remained as they were in the past. Someone even came daily to deliver the tea and pastries that Zanxing loved to eat—of course, to avoid waste, they were all eventually eaten by Xuan Lingzi himself.

After the Ten Thousand Killing Formation, when Zanxing’s demon race identity was discovered, the furious Lingxin Daoren had searched every corner of Miaokong Hall inside and out, finding all the clothing and belongings Zanxing had left behind, trying to find any trace of her harboring ill intentions toward the cultivation world. Later, all those things were burned in a fire.

Now, everything in this room had been replaced with new items. The tables and chairs were wiped clean, but there was no longer any trace of Zanxing’s presence. In an instant, it became ice-cold and desolate.

Gu Baiying lowered his eyes.

All traces of her existence had disappeared. Her past had been thoroughly erased, so cleanly that it was as if such a person had never existed in this world.

Moonlight slipped in through the window, falling on the ground in front of the window, clear as water, swaying with a few mottled tree shadows.

Gu Baiying suddenly remembered the fortune slip he and Zanxing had drawn from that pearl vendor’s stall in Heishi City on the Qixi Festival.

“Only the spring pavilion moon is sentimental, still illuminating fallen flowers for the departed.”

At that time, he had been angry at the vendor’s nonsensical rambling and hadn’t noticed the true deep meaning within this fortune slip.

The bright moon remained, but good dreams were hard to achieve.

Only the departed person was left behind.

A wind blew, making the tree shadows rustle and sway. He looked toward the persimmon tree outside the window and walked into the courtyard.

This persimmon tree had declined rapidly in the two years after the Ten Thousand Killing Formation. Its branches and leaves had gradually yellowed, and it looked like it was about to die. Later, after the journey to the Ruins of the Golden Gate, when the flood receded and the spiritual veins flowed again, this persimmon tree quickly regained its vitality.

The tree’s shadows and leaves were dense, cutting the moonlight into countless clear shadows that fell on the ground, intertwining with human shadows.

Zanxing’s maid loved to sit in the courtyard and look at this persimmon tree, always chattering about making Zanxing’s favorite frosted persimmon cakes when the persimmons bore fruit. Later, Hong Su went to Heishi City and never returned, and Zanxing never got to eat the fruit from this persimmon tree.

Ultimately, it was a regret.

He stood under the tree. A gust of wind blew from the distant mountains, making the full tree of green shadows lean. From deep within the tree shade, a green light suddenly swayed and flew over, riding the wind to land in the youth’s palm.

Gu Baiying was startled.

This was a green paper crane, folded somewhat roughly, its wings rising and falling, but it looked quite lively. He instinctively looked up and saw a particularly dense cluster of tree shade above, where a small black hole was visible in the trunk.

It was a tree hollow.

This tree hollow had always been well-concealed by the tree shade. Probably the wind just now had been too strong, scattering the opening of the tree hollow, and a paper crane had flown out from inside.

The paper crane had flown out from the tree hollow.

Gu Baiying’s eyes narrowed slightly.

On Gufeng Mountain, there were paper cranes used as sound transmission talismans that could help deliver messages. But this glowing green paper crane didn’t look like a sound transmission talisman. It rested in his palm like a perching firefly.

There seemed to be writing on the paper crane’s wings.

He paused, guessing something, and reached out to unfold the paper crane.

The green paper crane became a square piece of paper with writing on it.

“October 8th, moved to Mingxiu Courtyard today. The food is quite good, and the beds in the sect are soft.”

Gu Baiying was stunned.

The handwriting on this paper crane really couldn’t be called beautiful, but it was immediately familiar—it was Zanxing’s handwriting.

Xuan Lingzi was satisfied with everything about Zanxing except for one thing he greatly regretted—Zanxing’s handwriting wasn’t as elegant as her talisman drawing looked. It couldn’t be called ugly, but her pen-holding posture was always particularly awkward, as if she had never written before in all her past years. Xuan Lingzi, caring about face, always wanted Zanxing to practice her writing to make it more beautiful, often finding copybooks for her, but Zanxing never used them.

She also didn’t like writing much, so after Zanxing left, no traces she had left behind could be found in Mingxiu Courtyard.

But now, Gu Baiying was here, in this hidden tree hollow, glimpsing the moods recorded by paper cranes.

The silver spear in his hand was like a silver wind, sweeping past the tree hollow in that dense shadow.

Paper cranes flew down one after another, swaying.

“October 15th, sparred with Senior Brother Tian today. The Qianyang Axe cracked my staff. I hope it’s not broken.”

“October 20th, was scolded by Martial Uncle Yueqin today. She’s so fierce.”

“Senior Brother Mu gave Senior Sister Meng a box of very ugly rouge. Senior Sister Meng didn’t get angry. Senior Sister Meng is truly broad-minded.”

“Mimi has gotten three qian fatter these past few days. Terrifying.”

“Mendong’s lotus flower hair buns are really pretty. I want to learn. I wonder who ties them for him—Uncle Master Yueguang?”

“Cultivation is really hard. I don’t want to learn anymore.”

“Cultivation is interesting. I want to practice two more hours tomorrow.”

“I’ve spent all my spirit stones early again this month. When will I ever become rich?”

“The scar on my face still hasn’t healed. Fourth Martial Uncle seems to be lying to me.”

“Today, I read a book from the Library Pavilion called ‘The Great People of Duzhou.’ I was very moved. I’d like to travel all over Duzhou someday. I wonder if I’ll have that chance.”

“The food has been good recently, but I hope the dining hall won’t make scallion noodles tomorrow. I don’t like them.”

He also saw himself mentioned.

“Senior Brother Tian said the gray robes in the sect don’t look very good, and that Seventh Martial Uncle’s white robe is more flattering. Is there a possibility that it’s because Gu Baiying himself is good-looking?”

Looking at this line, he couldn’t help but smile.

Countless green paper cranes fell around him, their brilliant and moving fluorescent light swaying around him, playing and making noise, slowly repeating the past.

Gu Baiying seemed to see Zanxing sitting by the window, earnestly taking up her brush to write down her daily moods, folding them into paper cranes, carefully placing them in the tree hollow, sealing away her secrets.

Her eyes sparkled with mirth, laughing and scolding without restraint. One moment she complained about the hardships of cultivation, the next moment she vowed to work hard earnestly. She recorded a flower’s blooming, got angry over food that didn’t suit her taste. She observed every person, then put them aside.

Like writing a book that no one would read.

A paper crane floated down before his eyes, carrying a beam of cold moonlight, gazing at him tenderly.

This paper crane was different from the others. At the tip of the crane’s wing was a dot of ink, as if the writer had been absent-minded, not gripping the brush tightly, leaving an abrupt ink mark on the paper.

Gu Baiying unfolded the paper crane.

This paper crane had much more writing, almost filling the paper strip. The woman’s handwriting floated before his eyes.

“It rained today. After clearing up, there was a rainbow in front of Chuhong Terrace.”

“At Chuhong Terrace, I met Cultivator Nie from Yinfeng Sect, who came to the sect to discuss the Mo Sha matter. This person is somewhat familiar. He asked me what color flowers I like so he could pick some to give me.”

Next were traces of ink being smudged, as if someone had been distracted and upset, writing a line then messily erasing it. After thinking it over several times, she finally put brush to paper.

The youth’s gaze fell on the bottom line, and his expression suddenly froze.

Countless moving glimmers of light solidified.

“Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet—but unfortunately, my favorite… is white.”