The Mirror of Startling Beauty: Her courtiers are everywhere

She first met her master in the deep winter when she was five years old.

The weakness she was born with was like an invisible shackle. Even though her brother, the emperor, spared no effort in providing her with the most precious treasures in the world, her vitality still slipped away like sand through her fingers, disappearing silently day by day.

That day, the chill emanating from the depths of her bones was even greater than the snow outside the window. She clearly felt that the life lamp that had been flickering since childhood was finally about to go out.

She didn't want her brother, the emperor, to see it.

So he quietly left the warm pavilion, dragging his almost numb legs, and took one step at a time, stepping into the knee-deep snow outside the observatory.

The cold wind was like a knife, cutting my face, but I could no longer feel the pain.

She walked to the edge of the cliff, where clouds surged beneath her feet, swallowing the view below.

Yeah.

A faint smile appeared on her pale face.

It's better to not find it than to see it with your own eyes, right?

As her heart nearly stopped beating, she used her last bit of strength to fall backward like a snowflake.

come down.

The wind howled in my ears, and the feeling of weightlessness gripped my soul.

Just as her consciousness was about to fade, a beam of light suddenly appeared in her blurred vision.

That wasn't sunlight, it was moonlight.

A silver-white figure broke through the surging sea of ​​clouds and arrived on a sword.

Her flowing silver hair flew in the wind like the radiance of a god descending from heaven.

Xie Jinlian stretched out her arm and steadily caught the snowflake that was as light as a feather falling from the cliff.

The tiny bundle in my arms had a faint, almost nonexistent breath, was ice-cold, and had no heartbeat.

The snow-haired boy lowered his eyes, his misty gaze reflecting her bloodless face.

He didn't utter a word, but a faint lotus light suddenly shone from his fingertips. The gentle and vast sword intent contained vitality, flowing into her parched heart like a spring stream.

"From this day forward, your life is in my hands."

His voice was soft, yet every word was clear, imprinted deep within her fading consciousness.

From then on, on the fifteenth of every month, when the moonlight was at its brightest, he would initiate an encounter for her called "Mirror Dream".

Beyond the dream lies the otherworldly Kunlun Ruins, a thousand-year-old lotus pond deep within the scorching sea.

In reality, Tang Xixue sleeps peacefully in the Hall of Longevity, but in her dream, she stands on the Listening to the Moon Terrace in the center of the lotus pond.

Here, the air is filled with mist, and thousands of blue lotuses stand tall and graceful, their hearts pulsating with tiny, inextinguishable golden flames.

They met in a dream, where he imparted his sword and taught him the magic, a bond that lasted for ten years.

Xie Jinlian often played the flute under the moon.

The sound of the flute was clear and ethereal, without causing any ripples, yet it stirred the lotus flowers in the pond to sway in response.

The night dew condensed on the lotus petals, drawn by the music, rose in a soft rustling motion, suspended in mid-air, and condensed into countless transparent little swords. They rose and fell with the sound of the flute, weaving a dazzling yet dangerous galaxy.

As the lesson ended, the lingering melody of the flute faded away.

The rain of swords, formed from countless dewdrops, suddenly fell and merged into the lotus pond, while his misty figure faded away with the last melody, leaving only its echoes reverberating in dreams:

"Zhizhi, pain is proof of being alive. Endure it, and you'll be qualified to talk about the light later."

He personally guided her to cultivate her inner energy and taught her the "Immortal Cloud Steps," passing on his sword techniques and mental cultivation methods.

"Zhizhi, my sword intent is merely an illusion. You must cultivate your own sword heart and forge your own sword intent before you can truly stand in this world."

"The road ahead may be bumpy, but Zhizhi, remember—the sword is in your hand, and the road is under your feet. Move forward bravely."

"The sword is the blade of the heart. If you have warm sunshine and spring water in your heart, the sword's edge will reflect the spring water and warm sunshine; if you have vast rivers and mountains in your eyes, the sword's intent will naturally be able to encompass the grandeur of the mountains and rivers."

For ten years, no one outside the Mirror Dream knew that the frail and sickly Ninth Princess of the Chenyao Dynasty had a sword immortal master from another world.

They rarely crossed paths in reality, and almost all their teaching, companionship, and even the smallest care were entrusted to this unique dream world.

In Jingmeng when she was ten years old, Tang Xixue had just finished a complicated sword routine, her forehead beaded with sweat, and sat on the edge of the lotus pond, gently kicking the water with her bare feet.

As the toes passed by, the ripples stirred the lotus flames that were resting there, splashing up tiny golden specks of light.

A figure shrouded in mist quietly appeared behind her.

"Weaving."

She turned around in surprise: "Master!"

She jumped up as if to pounce on him, but stopped when she got close, tilting her little face up and looking at him with bright, sparkling eyes.

Xie Jinlian took something out of her wide sleeve.

It was a folding fan with a white jade frame.

Even before it was unveiled, it already exuded a warm and restrained radiance, like the essence of moonlight.

Today is your tenth birthday.

He handed the fan to her.

"This is a birthday gift."

Tang Xixue carefully accepted it.

It feels slightly cool to the touch. The white jade fan ribs are engraved with delicate cloud patterns. When unfolded, the fan surface is as white as freshly fallen snow, with a few sparse plum blossoms on it, elegant and aloof.

"So beautiful!" She couldn't put it down and looked at it over and over again.

"This fan is named Snow Soul."

His voice held a rare, very faint smile, like a gentle ripple on a frozen lake:

"A fan has three uses."

"The first function is etiquette—a woman holding a fan can conceal her face and enhance her posture; it is an elegant object."

"Two are instruments—"

He lightly tapped a spot on the fan rib with his fingertip.

The nine white jade fan ribs simultaneously emitted a layer of lustrous light, and their aura instantly changed.

"This fan can be used for self-defense, and it can also... transform into a sword."

"The third is faith."

"This fan is a keepsake from my master."

"If we encounter danger in the future, we may need external assistance..."

"Take this fan to any place marked with cloud patterns and show the fan surface."

"Someone will do everything in their power to help you."

Tang Xixue seemed to understand, yet she held the fan tightly to her chest, as if it were a priceless treasure.

"Thank you, Master! Zhizhi likes it very much!"

She thought for a moment, then looked up and asked timidly:

"Master, can Zhizhi touch it in reality?"

He was slightly startled.

After a long silence, he replied softly:

"Can."

I thought it was just a beautiful dream.

However, when the morning light streamed through the window the next day, she awoke from her deep sleep and clearly saw—a cold jade folding fan lying quietly beside her pillow, with a small "Ember Lotus" seal in the lower right corner, its red color dazzling.

It was her master who crossed the boundary between reality and illusion to deliver the promise to her side.

As time went by, she slowly grew up.

They would occasionally receive items sent by their master from afar via the spirit bird of Kunlun Ruins.

Sometimes it's an ancient book, sometimes a bottle of elixirs, sometimes just a few ice crystals from the Kunlun Mountains, attached to a piece of plum blossom paper with slender, firm, and clear handwriting: "Clouds return to the scorched sea, butterflies perch on lotus hearts, the mist dissipates to reveal you."

He became a white moonlight in her life, something she could only look forward to but never reach, yet which always shone brightly.

In the darkest moments when she was tormented by illness and felt hopeless about the future, this ray of moonlight quietly seeped into her heart, telling her: there is someone waiting for you in your dreams on the other side.

"Master~ I want to see you so much, I really want to..."

Beside the lotus pond in the dream, the girl murmured to her reflection in the water.

The water reflects the lonely moon in the sky, and also her forlorn eyes and brows.

Master is like the mist over this lotus pond, or the flower in the mirror.

She viewed the flowers through the mist; the flowers remained silent, their beauty almost ethereal, yet forever separated by an untouchable barrier.

That winter night.

The snow fell thick and fast, covering the entire Jade Palace.

In a half-dream, half-awake state, I seemed to hear a very soft knocking on the window.

She opened the window; the snow had stopped.

He stood outside the window on the veranda, covered in frost and snow, his silver hair almost blending into the moonlight.

He traveled from the distant Kunlun Ruins, across mountains and rivers, on his sword, just to keep a promise unknown to anyone, all because of a soft sigh she uttered in his dream.

He quietly took her out of the palace, and they boarded a painted boat, drifting on the tranquil snowy night of Mirror Moon Lake.

She played the zither in a painted boat with draped gauze curtains, while he danced with his sword for her on Mirror Moon Lake.

Under the moon, I danced for her, and ten thousand butterflies flew together.

The sword light was cold and clear, shining brightly with the snow and moon. At that moment, it seemed that only the sound of the zither and the clang of the sword remained in the world, along with the silent warmth flowing between the two.

"Master—" The music ended, the sword was sheathed, and she leaned against the ship's railing, mustering her courage to look into his misty eyes. "Will you come for my coming-of-age ceremony?"

He stood silently on the frozen lake, his clothes fluttering in the snow, and nodded slightly upon hearing this:

"meeting."

However, she ultimately did not live to see the day of her coming-of-age ceremony.

The net woven by fate tightened abruptly without warning, the gentle moonlight was torn apart, and she, like a fledgling bird with broken wings, fell completely into boundless darkness, imprisoned in the depths of an eternal, lightless hell.

In those days and nights when despair gnawed at my bones and loneliness drowned out my breath.

Her master's teachings, each word etched deep within her soul, were like the last flicker of a lamp in the wind.

It flickers in the chaos of a dying soul, supporting that teetering consciousness so that it does not completely dissipate.

Master said—

Zhizhi, you must live.

No matter how difficult or bitter it is, we must grit our teeth and live on.

They had worked side by side for so many long years to ignite an inextinguishable flame within this frail body.

By the lotus pond in Mirror Dream, under the snow and moon of Kunlun, his hand once steadily covered her small hand holding the sword, guiding her to repeatedly unleash her naive yet determined sword moves.

The sword energy pierced the air, severing not only the morning mist and night dew, but also the gloom of fate that clung to her destiny.

Every sword strike is a blade aimed at the unpredictable nature of fate.

Every breath is a journey from death to life.

Therefore, even if at this moment one is plunged into the deepest abyss of hell, imprisoned in chains, and surrounded by despair—

She also had to climb back.

Using all his strength, inch by inch, he broke free from the chains that corroded his soul.

Even if it's incredibly difficult, we must carve out a ray of light in the darkness.

Because someone once regarded her as a treasure.

Because someone once said, "Zhizhi, wait for me to come back."

Even more so because of her own spirit—that which refused to bow down or give up even in dire straits.

So she looked up, searching for direction in the endless despair.

Marked by scars, and lit by longing.

Using bones as a boat, I cross the boundless sea of ​​suffering.

With thoughts as oars, we break through the myriad illusions.

She will pull herself out of the abyss countless times with her own hands.

until—

The light of day has returned.

She no longer needs to wait for someone to bring her light.

Because of her own,

It has already become that bouquet—

A warm and bright light piercing through the eternal night.