Transforming into a stunningly beautiful fox spirit, leaving a scar on the heart of a prodigy.

The inner palace of the Heavenly Demon Dynasty was very quiet.

There was no damp, muddy smell like in Yunmengze, only a musty sandalwood scent mixed with an indescribable chill.

Su Xiaojiu leaned against the soft couch, covered with the tattered cloak she had brought from Yunmengze.

Although there were piles of brocade quilts here, this cloak stained with Bai Yin's blood made her feel at ease.

She held a piece of pastry in her hand, but didn't eat it; she just turned it around and looked at it.

The pastries were exquisitely made, imprinted with osmanthus patterns, and exuded a sweet and rich aroma.

"This is our second meeting."

A voice came from behind the screen.

Su Xiaojiu didn't look up. With a gentle snap of her fingers, the pastry broke in two, and some crumbs fell onto the quilt.

Tianpeng emerged from behind the screen.

She changed into casual clothes, no longer wearing the armor that symbolized her status as a marshal, and casually tied her hair into a bun. She carried a black pottery wine pot in her hand.

She sat down on a chair three steps away from the tatami mat and placed the wine pot on the table.

"The first time was at the Drunken Flower Pavilion." Su Xiaojiu stuffed half a piece of pastry into her mouth, chewed it twice, and swallowed it. "Back then, you were on the other side of the wall, wanting to kill that tiger."

Tianpeng did not deny it.

She poured herself a glass of wine, the liquid of which was cloudy and not the fine wine of the palace, but rather like cheap liquor from a roadside stall.

"I didn't see clearly at the time." Tianpeng picked up his wine cup, took a sip, and said, "I only felt that the scent was somewhat familiar, but I didn't expect it to really be you."

Su Xiaojiu patted the crumbs off her hands.

"Who am I?" she asked.

Tianpeng put down his wine cup, raised his eyelids, and his gaze fell on Su Xiaojiu's face.

The gaze was deep, as if looking through that face at a distant past, or at someone who had long since died.

"You are Su Xiaojiu," Tianpeng said, "and also a nine-tailed celestial fox."

Su Xiaojiu smiled, leaned back, and settled into a comfortable position.

"Since you know that, why don't you bring out the best wine and food? Is this how your Heavenly Demon Dynasty treats its guests, trying to fool Xiangrui with this inferior wine?"

Tianpeng wasn't angry.

She reached into her sleeve, pulled out an oil paper package, placed it on the table, and pushed it over.

"Osmanthus cake," Tianpeng said. "I bought it from Li's shop in the south of the city. It's not from the palace. The ones from the palace are too sweet and cloying to the throat."

Su Xiaojiu raised an eyebrow.

She reached for the oil paper package and opened it.

The pastries inside had long since lost their heat and had hardened somewhat, but the osmanthus fragrance remained pure.

Su Xiaojiu picked up a piece and took a bite.

It wasn't sweet, and had a slightly bitter taste, which was definitely more palatable than the delicate pastry from before.

"You used to love eating this too," Tianpeng suddenly said.

Su Xiaojiu paused for a moment.

"Before?" She looked at Tianpeng. "Marshal, you must have mistaken me for someone else. I was born and raised in the northern wilderness and later went to Yunmengze. I have never been to this imperial city, let alone eaten Li Ji's cakes."

Tianpeng didn't reply.

She simply watched Su Xiaojiu eat quietly.

That nonchalant attitude, that casual flicking of crumbs, and the slight trembling of the beauty mark at the corner of her eye as she chewed.

so similar.

Even if you know that person has long since vanished without a trace.

But there are some things she can't forget.

"So be it, admit your mistake." Tianpeng poured himself another glass of wine. "It's good that you admitted your mistake."

The room fell silent.

The only sounds were Su Xiaojiu eating pastries and Tianpeng occasionally swallowing wine.

Neither of them mentioned the Nine-Tailed Celestial Fox again, nor did they mention any grand cause of saving the world.

It's like two old friends who haven't seen each other in a long time sitting together, eating something, drinking some wine, and killing time during this long and boring period.

"That tiger won't die," Tianpeng suddenly said. "Emperor Shitian used the Seven-Turn Resurrection Pill, a life-saving item for royalty. As long as it has a breath left, it can be brought back to life."

Su Xiaojiu swallowed the last piece of pastry.

"I know," she said. "He's tough."

"You care about him a lot?"

"He caught fish for me, combed my hair, and even nailed half a demon core to the cave entrance to protect me." Su Xiaojiu pulled a corner of her cloak over her mouth. "Shouldn't I care?"

Tianpeng remained silent for a while.

She swirled the wine glass in her hand, looking at the murky reflection in it.

"It's good that you care." Tianpeng's voice was soft. "It's good to have someone you care about. Don't be like some people who have lived for thousands of years and in the end can't even find someone to talk to."

Su Xiaojiu looked at her.

This female marshal, who commanded 80,000 naval troops and was renowned in the Northern Region, now exuded an air of weariness.

That kind of listlessness isn't old age, but weariness.

Tired.

"If you want to talk to someone, there are plenty of people queuing up in this palace," Su Xiaojiu said.

"They're no good." Tianpeng shook his head. "They only know how to call someone Marshal or Your Excellency. They don't understand why osmanthus cake can't be too sweet, nor do they understand why the moon sometimes looks cold."

She stood up, crumpled the empty oil paper package into a ball, and casually tossed it into the charcoal brazier next to her.

The flames surged up and instantly engulfed the paper ball.

"Take good care of your injuries." Tianpeng straightened his clothes. "Although Di Shitian is anxious, he won't dare to touch you without my permission. We'll talk about it again when you've come to your senses and are willing to give that drop of blood."

After saying that, she turned and walked out.

She stopped at the door, her back to Su Xiaojiu.

"Tell me what you want to eat next time."

"The food in the palace is really not good."

As Su Xiaojiu watched her figure disappear through the door, the perfunctory smile on her lips slowly faded.

She glanced down at the blood-stained cloak she was wearing.

"Could it be another old acquaintance who knows the original body again..." Su Xiaojiu murmured softly.

She turned over, buried her face in her cloak, smelled the blood that belonged to Bai Yin, and closed her eyes.

……

After leaving the palace, Tianpeng did not return to his own mansion.

She walked westward along the palace path paved with broken jade.

The further we go, the further we stray from the right path.

The surrounding palaces became increasingly dilapidated, and weeds sprouted from the cracks in the stones, growing taller than a person.

Finally, she stopped in front of a palace at the end of the road.

Half of the plaque above the palace gate had long since fallen off, leaving only the single character "寒" (cold), hanging there forlornly, teetering on the verge of collapse.

Tianpeng pushed open the door.

Dust rushed towards us.

She didn't use her demonic power to block it, letting the dust fall on her.

The courtyard was empty.

There was only one huge osmanthus tree.

The tree was dead; its trunk was dry and cracked, like an old man's skin.

But this dead tree was covered with red ribbons.

Each ribbon had writing on it, some characters clear, others blurred and illegible.

Those are the memories left behind by everyone who has passed through or lived here over thousands of years.

Tianpeng walked to the tree.

She reached out and stroked the rough tree trunk.

"I saw you again," Tianpeng said softly.

The wind rustled through the bare branches, making a sound that seemed to be both a response and a mockery.

"She won't admit it." Tianpeng leaned against the tree trunk, took out the half-finished wine from his pocket, tilted his head back and took a swig. "Yeah, if it were me, I wouldn't admit it either."

"The river was so cold that day. Did you think the same thing when you jumped in?"

No one answered.

Only the half of the plaque swayed in the wind, making a creaking sound.

Tianpeng slid down and sat on the ground.

She looked up at the sky above, fragmented and torn apart by withered branches.

This is the Moon Palace, a replica built by the Demon Court.

Back then, in order to please that fairy of the Moon Palace, the Demon Emperor spent a fortune to build this palace and even transplanted a branch of a laurel tree.

Unfortunately, that fairy never came.

The tree also died a few years later because it couldn't adapt to the local environment.

Just like some things and some people, they were wrong from the very beginning.

"I knew you'd be here."

A dull thud came from the doorway.

Roller stood there, holding a lantern in his hand.

The lantern's light was dim, unable to illuminate the desolate courtyard, but only shining on the small patch of ground beneath his feet.

Tianpeng did not turn around.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

"I'm afraid you'll drink yourself to death here." Rolling the curtain came over and hung the lantern on a withered branch. "Indra is looking for you, saying he wants to discuss taking your blood."

"Let him wait," Tianpeng said. "What's the rush? He's not going to run away."

Rolling up the curtain, he sat down beside her.

The ground was covered with withered leaves and dust, but he didn't mind the dirt. He sat cross-legged, holding the knife across his knees.

"Is that her?" Roller Curtain asked.

Tianpeng shook the wine pot; it was empty.

She casually tossed the wine jug away, and it hit the corner of the wall, shattering into several pieces.

"Does it matter?" Tianpeng looked at the lantern swaying in the wind. "As long as that face is still there, as long as that way of eating pastries is still there, that's something to remember."

"Roller Curtain, we've lived too long."

"It's been so long that I can hardly remember what those people used to look like."

"If something that looks like it suddenly appears, even if it's fake, I'd want to take a second look."

The rolled-up curtain remained silent.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out an oil paper package, and handed it to Tianpeng.

"I bought it on the way here," said the curtain seller. "It's from Li's shop."

Tianpeng was stunned for a moment.

She took the oil paper package and opened it.

It's osmanthus cake again.

She picked up a piece, stuffed it into her mouth, and chewed it in large bites.

As I chewed, tears started to fall.

"It tastes awful!" Tianpeng cried and laughed at the same time. "It's so bitter!"

The curtain remained silent.

He just sat quietly, listening to the wind, the sound of fallen leaves being crushed underfoot, and the female marshal beside him, who commanded thousands of troops, crying miserably like a child.

The most bitter thing in this world is never medicine.

Therefore, when we meet, we do not recognize each other.

It's that bygone era, gone forever.

To the tune of "Linjiangxian: Reminiscences of the Old Palace"

The phoenix trees in the deep courtyard lock in the clear autumn, leaving only ruins and broken walls.

The fragrance of osmanthus blossoms is cool and undisturbed by sorrow.

Where have my old friends gone? I climb the highest tower alone.

A cup of turbid wine is hard to swallow; longing remains unspoken.

My dreams return to the Milky Way, its waters flowing eastward.

When I awoke, everyone had left; the bright moon shone on my lonely boat.