The Mirror of Startling Beauty: Her courtiers are everywhere

"With such a vast land as the Nine Provinces and such a wide world, there must be a way."

She gazed at him, her eyes burning brightly, like an inextinguishable flame:

"Brother Huaixian, don't be afraid."

She paused, then spoke each word softly yet solemnly:

"Zhizhi will always be with you."

He Lichen looked at her.

Looking at the light in her eyes.

The light was so bright that it stirred up ripples in his heart, which had long been as calm as still water.

"Um."

He responded softly.

His Adam's apple bobbed slightly, suppressing the surging emotions within him.

"I'm not afraid."

He paused.

He was never afraid of death.

I'm afraid I won't be able to protect her anymore.

Looking at her, a very faint smile appeared on his lips:

"There are weavers in the mortal world—"

"Those who aspire to immortality will not become immortals."

She smiled.

Holding his hand, I stepped onto the stone steps leading to the Mountain and River Palace.

The Nine Halls of Tianchen are located within the Shanhe Que (Mountain and River Gate).

The Imperial Advisor lives on the top-level observatory, a building called the Star-Picking Tower.

The dangerous building is a hundred feet high, and the stars can be picked by hand.

But at this moment, he is holding her hand.

The stars are already in my palm.

Beside the mountain path, there is a huge, snow-white camellia tree.

Flowers bloom in abundance, their white petals as white as snow, layer upon layer, pure and ethereal.

When the wind blows, the fallen flowers are like snow, fluttering and covering the stone steps.

A figure stood under the tree.

The red and gold brocade robe stood out against the backdrop of pure white snow.

Tangxi Xue paused slightly in her steps.

"what?"

She looked at the figure, her eyes filled with curiosity:

"I think I've seen that master before when my mother and I went to Huguo Temple."

Beside that person stood another figure.

The young holy monk, Sheng Feiming, dressed in a moon-white Buddhist robe, was bowing with his hands clasped together.

"Master."

His voice was clear and melodious, like a cool mountain spring, yet it also carried a touch of youthful naiveté.

"The hearts of the people are like a pool, each with its own turbidity and clarity."

Tang Xixue's gaze fell on the figure in the red kasaya.

The man stood beneath a camellia tree, his features gentle and refined.

He exudes a Zen-like aura that is untouched by the world.

It's as if it came out of the moon palace.

It was like slowly waking up from a dream that had lasted for a very long time.

At first glance, she was momentarily stunned to see the shadow of Tang Xiye.

The same eyebrow and eye contours.

They have the same physique and bearing.

But his expression was completely different.

That person was too quiet.

It was as still as a deep pool that had never been disturbed for a thousand years.

A flower in a mirror is not a flower.

The moon reflected in the water is not the moon.

"The colors you see are all stained by your mind."

The man spoke.

Her voice was clear and cold like snow falling into a cold pool, yet it carried a touch of gentle compassion, as if it came from a very, very far place through a thin layer of mist.

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves and the shadows of the flowers, gilding his entire body with a very faint, flowing golden edge.

His facial bone structure was exquisitely clear, as if sculpted by a cold blade, and his jawline was clean and sharp.

He remains as handsome as ever.

Time seemed to move with extraordinary slowness upon him, as if even the passage of time itself could not bear to disturb his serene and Zen-like demeanor.

"When the cause begins, a single leaf can obscure the entire sky."

Those eyes were as clear as autumn water, unfathomable.

But deep inside, something stirred slightly.

Extremely light, extremely faint.

It's like someone throwing a small pebble into a deep pool that's been there for thousands of years.

The ripples were silent.

But the scent lingered for a long time.

"When fate ends, even ten thousand mountains cannot stop the lone wild goose."

A robe hung loosely over his slender figure.

The golden brocade adorning his solemn countenance, when it fell upon him, did not resemble earthly splendor—it was more like a fragrant mist formed from condensed smoke, or like an entire passage of scripture being gently draped over his body.

When the wind blows, the hem of her clothes flutters slightly.

It resembled a cold mist quietly spreading in the mountains.

The young holy monk, Sheng Feiming, stood beside him, his hands clasped together, and smiled faintly.

That smile was so clear, like the first ray of light after a snowfall.

When a seed is planted in the soil, it does not know whether it will become a beautiful flower or a thorny bramble.

His voice was ethereal and mellow, like the lingering echo of distant mountain bells and chimes.

"It simply responds honestly to every drop of rain that falls and every ray of sunlight that shines upon it."

He paused, looking at the figure in the moon-white cassock beside him.

"Master."

"Neither you nor I are pawns on the chessboard to be moved around at will."

He lowered his gaze, his eyes landing on the dark brown Bodhi prayer beads on his wrist.

Each bead is round and full, with an inner radiance, subtly shimmering with the precious light nurtured by time and faith.

"Even the most holy and enlightened is not the true self."

He gently twirled a Buddhist rosary.

The movement was extremely light and slow.

It's like counting the years, or living out one's fleeting life.

"Life is but a fleeting dream within a dream, worldly affairs are like the wind in the breeze."

Mountain breeze, snow scene.

Both figures exuded a Zen-like tranquility, untouched by worldly affairs.

They seemed not to belong to this world.

But when Sheng Feiming turned his head and saw Tang Xixue, there was a clear light in his eyes.

That is a light that remains clear even after witnessing the vastness of the mortal world.

His eyebrows curved into a smile, and he gave a slight laugh.

It was like a silent, dazzling shower of stars falling upon her white snow.

The snow never tried to cover the starlight, nor did the starlight melt the snow.

They only coexisted briefly under the same night sky, and then the snow melted into the void, while the Milky Way remained ever bright.

The fact that they have reflected each other is the whole meaning.

"That's Master Bu Ran."

He Lichen lowered his eyes and said softly:

"Saint Feiming's master."

"oh."

Tang Xixue nodded.

She remembers.

When she was young, her mother would take her and her brother to Huguo Temple every year.

Master Bu Ran sat under that thousand-year-old ginkgo tree, meditating with his eyes closed, his expression serene.

His mother's gaze always fell on him.

For a long time.

Like a cage, it seemed to want to trap him inside.

But in the end, the Empress Dowager only passed by his side.

A red ribbon was gently hung on the golden ginkgo tree.

That's it.

She gazed at that figure.

Gazing at the Buddhist robe billowing in the mountain wind, and at those eyes as clear as autumn water.

Suddenly, I remembered my mother's expression that day.

So faint, as faint as a thin mist passing through the forest, as faint as if nothing had ever happened.

But beneath that pale surface lies something so profound that it's impossible to fathom.

She suddenly realized something.

There was someone living in the mother's heart.

That person was not the late emperor.

It is the untainted master before us.

She lowered her eyes.

I didn't look at it again.

"Let's go."

She said softly.

Holding He Lichen's hand, they continued upwards.

Behind me, camellias bloomed quietly.

The man stood under the tree.

For a long time.

It didn't move.

When the wind blows, it blows down a few camellia petals.

It fluttered down and landed on his shoulder.

He did not brush it away.

Just standing there, gazing.

It's like gazing into a dream that's been going on for a very, very long time.

Finally, the dream ended.

But the person who woke up was still in the same place.

Still waiting.

Still listening.

Listen to the soft sound of camellias falling.

"Rustling, rustling."

The sunlight was just right in front of the Hall of Fireflies.

Xie Jinlian sat quietly in a white jade wheelchair, a frosty white blanket covering her knees.

The winter sun was not strong; it spread down gently and softly, giving him a light warmth.

He closed his eyes slightly, as if he were resting or listening to the sound of the wind passing through the plum branches.

There were light footsteps behind me.

Yun Boyan, dressed in a silver robe, arrived through the snow.

He held a sprig of red plum blossom in his hand, its petals still covered with unmelted snowflakes, a touch of vibrant color amidst the coolness.

He had originally intended to place this plum blossom in a celadon vase in his brother's room—Xie Jinlian preferred quiet, but also appreciated the subtle fragrance of winter.

He looked up, his gaze inadvertently sweeping over the snow-covered steps.

Then--

He froze.

The snow-covered steps wind upwards, and sunlight filters through the plum branches, scattering golden fragments across the ground.

Two figures were slowly ascending the steps, their fingers intertwined, their clothes fluttering as they occasionally touched before gently separating.

That red dress, so vibrant and dazzling, was a figure he knew all too well.

Walking alongside her was the Imperial Preceptor, He Lichen, dressed in a moon-white crane cloak.

Yun Boyan's eyes suddenly darkened.

"Click—"

A very faint, yet chilling, crackling sound.

The red plum blossom between his fingers instantly turned to dust from the point where it was broken.

Delicate petals and snowflakes fell softly from between his fingers, landing on the pristine white snow, their crimson spots a startling sight.

He stood there, motionless.

The aura around him subtly changed.

Like a still pond, suddenly a huge rock is thrown in, and beneath the ripples, there are turbulent undercurrents.

Xie Jinlian's closed eyes twitched slightly.

He sensed it.

An unnamed rage surged up in his chest without warning.

The anger came fiercely and scorchingly, as if it wanted to burn a person to ashes from the inside out.

But that wasn't his emotion.

"Ayan?"

He turned his head slightly.

Sunlight fell on his profile, outlining a delicate yet pale face.

"What are you angry about?"

The voice was very soft, as soft as snow falling into a deep pool, carrying a hint of doubt.

Yun Boyan did not respond.

He simply gazed at the two figures on the snow-covered steps.

But the image of their intertwined fingers is etched into my mind.

Lingering.

He lowered his eyes.

Looking at the pool of scarlet petals at my feet.

a long time.

"...It's nothing."

He spoke, his voice hoarse, like a blade sharpened by sand and gravel.

He paused for a moment.

"I just wanted to kill someone."

Those few words felt so light and airy.

Even before the blade was drawn, its chilling aura was already palpable.

"Brother, please wait here for a moment."

Yun Boyan lowered his eyes and looked at Xie Jinlian in the wheelchair.

"I'll be right back."

He stretched out his hand.

He grasped the sword lying silently beside his brother's knee—Butterfly's Departure.

It is three feet and seven inches long, with a transparent blade like ancient ice, containing flowing stardust within.

The sword guard is shaped like a butterfly with outstretched wings, with silver threads intertwined to form the veins of a butterfly wing.

That was Xie Jinlian's sword, named Butterfly's Departure, so light it seemed as if it could actually carry the weight of a butterfly.

Ke Yun Boyan knew that the lighter the sword was, the faster it would be when it was drawn.

The faster it is, the more ruthless it becomes.

He gripped the sword in his palm, his knuckles turning slightly white from the force.

next moment.

His figure instantly transformed into a cloud of mist.

The sunlight scattered across the ground, and the shadows of plum blossoms filled the courtyard.

Only a few plum blossoms, startled by the gust of wind, drifted and fell onto the snow.