The Great Song Dynasty's Soul-Forging in Progress

The singer appeared to be about fourteen or fifteen years old, dressed in a faded cloth robe, yet so clean it seemed untouched by the world. Her black hair was unadorned, simply tied back with a blue ribbon, a few stray strands dampened by the mountain mist clinging to her jade-like forehead. Most remarkably, she carried a bamboo medicine basket overflowing with herbs, and several fireflies lingered among the leaves, bathing her in a soft, gentle glow.

Her footsteps were extremely light, as if she were afraid of disturbing the sleeping plants. As she approached, even the mountain breeze, which had been howling moments before, softened, and the wild irises by the stream swayed gently, as if bowing in greeting. A startled squirrel, about to flee, stopped when it saw her and perched on a branch, observing her curiously.

Upon seeing this group of wounded and injured people, her singing stopped abruptly. Her clear gaze shifted, and when she saw Qin Tiehua, who was unconscious in Wang Zhonghua's arms, her eyes suddenly narrowed.

"Tiger and leopard claw wounds, a penetrating arrow wound, excessive blood loss, and deficiency of both qi and blood." She spoke very quickly, but every word was clear. "If the arrowhead is not removed soon, it will damage the lung meridian, and I'm afraid even a god couldn't save me."

Before she finished speaking, she had already turned around, the medicine basket swaying slightly on her shoulder: "Come with me. Grandpa always says that saving lives is like putting out a fire, and there's no time to waste."

Wang Zhonghua then came to his senses and followed closely behind, carrying Qin Tiehua. He noticed that the girl's walk had a strange rhythm, as if it were in sync with the breathing of the mountain forest. Wherever she passed, the grass and trees parted automatically, and not even a single withered branch or leaf on the ground was crushed.

"My name is Liu Xinyi," she said without turning her head, her voice clear and melodious like the mountains. "My nickname is Linlang. I remember the location of every single herb in this forest. Just now, when I was picking dendrobium on the cliff top, I saw startled crows circling around, and I knew there must be a fight going on."

She paused, then suddenly turned and smiled. "Young master's breathing is heavy, and his internal energy is disordered. He must have suffered internal injuries. After we save this lady, I'll prescribe a remedy for you."

That smile was like a white plum blossom blooming under the moon—pure and beautiful beyond compare.

Wang Zhonghua was startled—this seemingly innocent girl could see his hidden internal injuries in the darkness. What was even stranger was that, despite being their first meeting, she was completely unguarded, as if in her eyes there were only the injured, not the wicked.

"Aren't you afraid we might be bad guys, young lady?" Lu Maoyi asked warily from the side.

Liu Xinyi continued walking, her voice carried on the wind: "There is murderous intent in your eyes, but also death—the fear of losing someone important." She leaped lightly across the stream, her toes barely touching the water's surface without splashing a drop. "And I, I'm just saving those who deserve it."

Under the moonlight, the figure in white gradually walked away into the distance. The herbs in the medicine basket emitted a bittersweet fragrance, and fireflies still lingered, illuminating her path.

Only then did Wang Zhonghua realize that in his panic, he had followed her onto a path he had never noticed before. The path was lined with Viola yedoensis and Lobelia chinensis, both of which are excellent herbs for stopping bleeding and healing wounds—as if this path itself was a celestial path leading to life.

They arrived at the thatched hut by the stream as they spoke. Liu Xinyi pushed open the wooden door and deftly set out a bamboo bed: "Put her down gently; I need to check her injuries first."

Her hand-washing movements were practiced and natural, her expression focused as she examined the wound. When she saw the arrow deeply embedded in her shoulder, her delicate brows furrowed slightly: "A tiger or leopard scratch is a minor matter, but the arrowhead is three-tenths of an inch into the flesh, damaging the tendons and bones. However..."

She gently pressed around the wound and carefully observed Qin Tiehua's complexion: "Fortunately, the arrow was not poisoned, but due to excessive blood loss, the wound has begun to rot."

Upon hearing this, Wang Zhonghua immediately took out a porcelain bottle he carried with him: "This is my specially made alcohol, it's most effective for cleaning wounds."

Liu Xinyi took the porcelain bottle, sniffed it lightly, and a look of surprise flashed in her eyes: "How can the aroma of this wine be so strong? It is several times more mellow than the fine wine that Grandpa has treasured."

"This substance can kill the tiny germs on wounds—what we call the root cause of the disease," Wang Zhonghua explained. "If you don't believe me, young lady, you can try it."

Liu Xinyi didn't ask any further questions and took out silver needles to test it. Seeing the disinfecting effect of the alcohol, her eyes flashed with excitement: "Grandpa always said that the way of medicine is endless, and today I have indeed seen something new and amazing! It seems that you are not on an ordinary mission after all."

Her voice was soft and sweet, so enchanting that it was intoxicating to listen to.

Just as Liu Xinyi was about to begin treating her wounds, a strange sound of footsteps suddenly came from outside the door.

"Tap, tap, tap," the sound was unhurried, each step seemingly on the rhythm of a heartbeat, yet as light as a leaf brushing against a bluestone slab. Even more strangely, as the footsteps drew closer, the herbal fragrance that filled the room seemed to come alive, slowly flowing and outlining faint patterns in the air.

The door opened silently, and a slender figure drifted in.

The newcomer wore a blue robe, washed until white yet spotless, its hem fluttering even without wind, as if surrounded by an invisible aura of purity. His beard and hair were all white, but not the frosty white of an old man; rather, they were as white as snow and as white as silver, each strand distinct, gleaming with a warm, jade-like luster in the candlelight. Most striking were his eyes—clear as a spring, yet deep as the sea, seemingly capable of piercing through life and death, seeing through reincarnation, yet when they touched the wounded, they instantly transformed into a compassionate gaze like a gentle spring breeze.

"Linlang," he began, his voice clear and resonant like a bell, carrying the mellow richness of years, "where did you meet this patient, and why are you making such a racket?"

Before he finished speaking, his gaze had already fallen on Qin Tiehua on the bamboo couch, his white eyebrows slightly raised: "A three-edged, armor-piercing awl, such a sharp weapon is not something an ordinary person would possess. The girl has lost more than half her blood, yet she has protected her heart. What a clever girl."

His words were spoken casually, as if he were merely commenting on the appearance of a medicinal herb, yet every word was precise and accurate. Everyone present felt a chill run down their spines—from such a distance, with just a glance, he had discerned details of the injury that even Wang Zhonghua might not have fully known.

Upon hearing this, Liu Xinyi immediately took a half step back, lowered her head, and said, "Grandpa, this sister has an arrow stuck in her bone. I was just about to get some strong liquor to disinfect it and treat it according to your method."

Liu Jueming nodded slightly, turning his gaze to Wang Zhonghua, his eyes seemingly able to see straight into the depths of one's heart: "Young friend, I can save the life of the girl in your arms. But you must understand that some debts, once incurred, will entangle you for three lifetimes."

Wang Zhonghua's breath caught in his throat.

He had been in this world for less than half a year. In his previous life, he was thirty-two years old and had never tasted the sweetness of love. He spent his days rushing around in the concrete jungle, locking all his tenderness in tedious formalities. He once thought that "love at first sight," "childhood sweethearts," and "a vow of life and death" were nothing but sentimentalities in plays, fantasies of the ancients with excess hormones.

But now, Qin Tiehua's pale face was right in front of him. He remembered her deep affection for him, the resolute look on her lips when she was shot with an arrow, "I must protect the ore that Brother Zhonghua is looking for," and the way her fingers gripped his clothes tightly before she lost consciousness—that was not the look of a sister for her brother, but a farewell that offered him her whole heart.

The poem I loved to memorize from "The Legend of the Condor Heroes" that I secretly read in high school came flooding back to me:

What is love in this world that makes people willing to die for it?

There are two flying passengers from the north to the south, and the old wings return to the cold and heat a few times.

Have fun, parting hard, you will be more idiots.

You should have these words: Across ten thousand miles of layered clouds, amidst a thousand mountains covered in evening snow, to whom does this solitary figure turn?

Hengfen Road, where the flutes and drums of yesteryear are now silent, and the desolate smoke still hangs over the plains.

What lament can summon back the departed soul? The mountain spirit weeps silently in the wind and rain.

Even Heaven is jealous, and cannot believe that orioles and swallows will all turn to dust.

For a thousand autumns and ten thousand ages, it awaits poets to come and visit the Goose Mound, singing wildly and drinking heartily.

It turns out that some promises don't need words.

It turns out that while he was still using the phrase "childhood sweethearts" as a shield to clumsily divide kinship and love, this silly girl had already crossed the line between life and death, paying the price of fighting tigers and leopards and being pierced by an arrow, leaving an inescapable mark on his heart.

"Three lifetimes, no, lifetimes upon lifetimes..."

Wang Zhonghua lowered his eyes, looking at Qin Tiehua's slightly heaving chest. He suddenly felt ridiculous—ridiculous that he, having lived two lives, was not as brave as a fourteen or fifteen-year-old girl. In this life, he had never thought of love, only wanting to live a peaceful life, but fate had given him such a deep affection that was worth exchanging life for life.

If he were saved, he would no longer be the free-roaming time traveler. This debt of gratitude would be so heavy that it would crush all his fantasies of "freedom" and "self-preservation." He would bear the burden of her for the rest of his life, unable to repay it, and unable to escape it.

If not saved...