Chapter 69 - 68: A sea of flowers...

Chapter 69: Chapter 68: A sea of flowers...

Chen Yichen looked between the others, genuinely puzzled by their reactions. He glanced down at his bowl, then toward the old woman, apparently unable to understand what he had said wrong.

Minghao slowly lowered the hand he had raised to his face, his expression tight from trying to hold back his anger.

Yuexin continued eating, though her shoulders remained tense. As for Chen Xiaoyu, she had gone quiet as well, their chopsticks paused above the bowl and none of the three said anything.

They simply exchanged brief looks, each trying their best to suppress the urge to drag Yichen outside and beat some sense into him.

The old woman, however, seemed more interested in his answer than their reactions.

"An investigation, you say?"

"Yes." Yichen nodded in a solemn tone as he took another mouthful of stew with a serious face. "We’re supposed to look into a place farther east. It’s extremely far from here, so we’re heading that way now. According to our report, it was several hundred kilometers North to Jade River City, actually."

The old woman’s hand paused briefly as she heard his words.

"Jade River City..." she murmured, lowering her gaze toward her bowl. "So you’re heading for the Burial Star Ridge..."

The name was unfamiliar to all four of them. Minghao exchanged a brief glance with Yuexin, while Xiaoyu quietly studied the old woman’s expression.

Yichen, meanwhile, seemed more interested in finishing his stew than in the name she had just mentioned.

"Going so far just to investigate that place..." The old woman slowly stirred the food in her bowl. "How odd, there’s nothing there except desolate plain and wild bandits."

Minghao carefully watched her expression. "Have you heard of it, Grandma?"

"Perhaps."

The old woman took another bite before setting down her chopsticks. Her cloudy eyes wandered toward the window, where the last traces of evening light had disappeared.

For a while, she seemed to be looking at something beyond the darkened village, "I don’t exactIy remember the place since it had been so long, but I do remember an old poem about that area," she said at last. "It was written in a time when people still believed immortals could reach beyond the stars."

Yichen immediately looked up. "A poem?"

"Mm. I heard it when I was young. My grandmother used to recite it whenever the rain lasted too long."

The old woman picked up her bowl again, though she did not eat. Instead, her fingers rested against its rim as she began to recite.

Beyond the eastern clouds, where fallen stars repose, A lone immortal wandered where the ancient wind blows.

He crossed ten thousand miles, through mountains veiled in snow, Seeking the elixir that could turn back life’s flow.

Through bitter frost and mist, where mortal blossoms sleep, He climbed a thousand peaks and crossed ravines so deep.

He bowed before the heavens, his vows as mountains high, Yet even the Immortal Dao could not reverse death’s tide.

He borrowed light from the moon, and stole the dawn’s first ray, He searched the Yellow Springs, where departed souls stray.

The elixir could restore a soul from death’s embrace, But never could it bring back the one time had erased.

Beneath the eastern peaks, where clouds like oceans roll, He waits for a familiar step, a voice to stir his soul.

Heaven’s decree remains, the stars grow dim and cold, Yet love endures unchanged, through a thousand years untold.

Her voice was old and slightly rough, yet each line came out with a strange clarity.

The words seemed to settle over the room, mingling with the faint crackling of the hearth.

Even the ordinary sounds of the house appeared to grow quieter as the poem continued, until the soft movement of the old woman’s voice became the only thing the four young cultivators could hear.

At first, Yichen listened with casual interest.

He had expected an old village poem to be little more than a collection of familiar phrases about immortals and distant mountains, but as the old woman continued, his movements gradually slowed.

The spoon in his hand stopped halfway to his mouth, and his attention settled entirely on her voice.

Minghao’s bowl remained suspended near his lips. Yuexin’s eyes gradually lost focus, her chopsticks hovering above the dishes.

Xiaoyu, who had been watching the old woman’s face, smiled in return, as though she was the only one unaffected by it.

In the other three ears, the words seemed to grow distant, yet each line reached them more clearly than the last.

The small room around them faded from their awareness, replaced by a vast expanse beneath a pale eastern sky.

They saw a lone figure standing among snow-covered mountains.

His robes were torn, his hair had turned white, and in his hands rested a small jade pill. Before him lay a woman beneath a flowering tree, her face peaceful, as though she had only fallen asleep.

The immortal knelt beside her, holding the pill with trembling fingers. His lips moved, but no sound came out.

The scene shifted.

Mountains crumbled. Rivers dried. The seasons passed, yet the man remained, searching for something that even the heavens could not grant him.

They saw him cross frozen valleys and climb mountains where the wind had worn the stone smooth. They saw him stand beneath a sky filled with unfamiliar stars, his figure growing smaller as the years passed around him.

Then, just as the figure reached toward the woman, a sharp clatter broke through the vision.

Yuexin’s chopsticks had fallen onto the table.

The three of them jolted awake.

Yichen nearly knocked over his bowl as he pulled back, while Minghao’s chair scraped against the floor.

Yuexin caught the edge of the table, her face pale as she stared across it. Xiaoyu pretended as her hand instinctively reached for the weapon at their waist, only to find that their hand had moved before they had even understood what was happening.

The old woman was still sitting in the same place, calmly watching them with a soft smile.

For several breaths, none of them spoke.

Minghao felt a chill travel down his spine.

They were all Qi Condensation cultivators, yet a few lines of poetry had drawn their minds into an illusion without them noticing.

It had not been an ordinary illusion either. For those brief moments, they had experienced the sorrow of a stranger as though it belonged to them.

Even now, the grief left behind by the vision seemed to cling to his chest.

Xiaoyu lowered their hand from their weapon, but their gaze remained fixed on the old woman.

They had experienced illusions before, both during training and in the course of their travels.

Most could be recognized through some inconsistency in the surroundings, a distortion of spiritual perception, or a sudden change in the flow of one’s thoughts.

But this had been entirely different.

What kind of person could do that with a poem alone?

Minghao’s gaze settled on the old woman’s wrinkled face. He had already suspected that she was a reclusive expert, though his earlier estamistation was roughly around the peak of the Qi Condensation realm.

But now...

Foundation Establishment?

And he wasn’t the only one that came to this conclusion, the other two also had the same thought.

Even that seemed difficult to believe. If she truly possessed such strength, why would she be living alone in an abandoned village, and for unknown reasons, entertaining four young cultivators.

Yichen swallowed and looked at the old woman. His earlier carefree expression had finally disappeared.

"Grandma... what was that about?"

The old woman picked up Yuexin’s fallen chopsticks and placed them neatly beside her bowl.

"Just a poem."

"Just a poem?" Minghao repeated, unable to keep the disbelief from his voice.

"Children these days." She gave a faint smile. "You hear a few old words and frighten yourselves."

Xiaoyu glanced at the others, then back at the old woman. "I-I saw something... "

"Did you?" The old woman looked at them with mild curiosity, and after a second, she chuckled, "Then perhaps my grandmother was a better storyteller than I thought."

Yuexin was still looking at her. Unlike Yichen, she had not recovered her composure so easily, "Senior, what does that poem mean? Was it really about the place we’re going to?"

The old woman considered her question.

"That is what the story says. Whether it happened or not, who can tell? It was already an old rumour when my grandmother heard it."

She reached for the teapot and poured herself a little water. Her movements were unhurried, "Long ago, people spoke of an immortal who fell in love with a mortal. He or she was said to possess great cultivation, enough to travel between distant lands and live for countless years. The mortal, however, was born without spiritual roots. No matter how many medicines the immrotal gave or how many treasures the immortal searched for, he could not bring her onto the path of cultivation."

The old woman paused to take a sip.

"At first, he believed he had all the time in the world. He thought that if he searched long enough, he would find a way. But mortals do not wait for immortals. Her hair turned white, her steps grew weak, and one day, she could no longer rise from her bed."

Yuexin listened quietly. Xiaoyu’s expression had also grown saddened, and neither of them interrupted.

"What happened to her?" Yichen asked.

"She died, of course."

The old woman placed the teapot down.

"And the immortal watched her die. He could not accept it, so he searched for a resurrection pill, believing that if he found one, he could bring her back. Some said he discovered the pill beneath the eastern mountains. Others claimed he found it but could not use it. There were even rumours that he had gone mad and spent the rest of his life researching for a way to reverse her death."

"D-did the immortal succeed?" Yichen asked.

The old woman looked at him.

"That is the part no one knows."

She returned to her food, leaving the question unanswered for a while.

"Some say the immortal eventually became a demon. Others say he found a way to revive her, but she no longer remembered him. There are many versions. The only thing they share is that the immortal never left that plain where the woman breathed her last."

Minghao lowered his gaze to his bowl, his earlier suspicion momentarily pushed aside by the story.

"The place we’re going to..." Yuexin began, then paused. "Is it really connected to that legend?"

"I don’t know, child." The old woman picked up her chopsticks again while chukcling. "It may be nothing more than a story people made up to explain an abandoned ruin or an old tomb."

Xiaoyu considered the words for a moment. "But the poem mentions the eastern mountains. If the legend originated there, perhaps the place we’re investigating is connected to the story in some way."

"Perhaps." The old woman did not confirm or deny it. "Or perhaps people simply like attaching old stories to places no one visits anymore."

She looked toward the window once more.

"The heavens are not necessarily ruthless. Perhaps it is the world itself that is cruel. It gives one person a lifetime, and another a thousand years, then allows them to meet as though they were meant to remain together."

Her chopsticks moved gently through the food.

"But what is a thousand years worth, if the person you wish to spend them with is gone?"

For a while, the four young cultivators remained quiet. The old woman’s words lingered in their minds, though none of them seemed to know what to say in response.

Even Yichen, who usually had something to say about nearly everything, lowered his gaze to his bowl and took another bite without speaking.

Minghao quietly picked up his chopsticks, while Yuexin glanced at the old woman once more before returning to her food.

Xiaoyu was the last to resume eating.

The old woman watched them for a little while before breaking the silence.

"Well, don’t let an old woman’s story ruin your meal. The stew will get cold."

Yichen immediately nodded. "Right. I was just thinking the same thing."

Minghao gave him a sideways look. "You were?"

"Of course. I’m still hungry."

Yuexin let out a small sigh and shook her head. "Honestly, you’re impossible."

The old woman chuckled softly and reached for her bowl. "Good. At least someone here knows how to enjoy a meal."

"See?" Yichen said, looking rather pleased with himself. "Grandma understands me."

"Don’t get too excited," Yuexin muttered. "The Senior might change her mind once you start talking again."

Xiaoyu finally allowed a small smile to appear. "That might happen sooner than you think."

"Why are all of you picking on me?" Yichen complained, though he was already reaching for another serving.

The old woman chuckled again, and the tension that had settled over the room gradually eased.

The meal continued for a little while longer, with Yichen happily helping himself to more stew while Minghao and Yuexin gradually relaxed.

Xiaoyu ate more slowly, occasionally glancing at the old woman, but the latter gave no indication that she had noticed.

By the time they finished, the village outside had grown completely dark.

The old woman cleared the bowls from the table and glanced at the four of them. "It’s late. You should stay here tonight. There’s a room you can use."

"That would be great. Thank you, Grandma," Yichen replied without hesitation.

"Sorry I can’t prepare anything better," she said as she led them down a narrow corridor. "There’s only one spare room, and the bed isn’t very big. I’m afraid all four of you will have to make do with what there is."

The room was simple, with a wooden bed pushed against one wall and a small table beside it.

A folded blanket and two pillows had been placed on top. It was hardly spacious, and the bed was certainly not large enough for four people to sleep comfortably, but there was enough floor space for someone to lie down if they did not mind the hard boards.

"It’s fine," Minghao said. "We’ve slept in worse places."

Yichen nodded. "Yeah, this is more than enough."

Yuexin glanced at the bed, then at the two of them. "I don’t mind either."

Xiaoyu looked at the folded blanket. "I’ll take the floor. The rest of you can use the bed."

"Are you sure?" Minghao asked.

"It’s only one night. Besides, someone has to make sure Yichen doesn’t take up the entire bed."

"Hey!" Yichen protested.

The old woman smiled apologetically. "I can bring another blanket."

"That would be helpful, Grandma," Xiaoyu replied.

"Then make yourselves comfortable. I’ll leave you to rest."

After making sure they had everything they needed, she turned and walked back down the corridor. Her footsteps gradually faded until the four were left alone in the small room.

Yuexin waited until the old woman’s presence was no longer nearby before turning toward the others. Her expression had gone cold.

"You two idiots better sleep in the corners," she muttered. "Unless you want to die tonight."

Yichen blinked. "Why are you looking at me?"

"Because you’re the biggest idiot here."

Minghao quietly moved toward the edge of the bed. "I’m taking the corner."

Xiaoyu glanced at the narrow space between the bed and the wall before looking at Yichen. "I- I will stay on the floor. That way, there’s less chance of someone accidentally pushing me off."

Yuexin glanced at her before turning to Yichen. "You sleep with me. Let the two idiots sleep on the floor."

The two stiffened under her gaze and hurriedly scrambled to the side.

Late into the night, the small room had fallen into silence.

The oil lamp had been extinguished some time ago, and the pale moonlight slipping through the window was the only thing illuminating the wooden floor.

Chen Minghao and Chen Yuexin had already fallen into a deep sleep.

Neither seemed particularly bothered by the cramped conditions, though Minghao had somehow managed to occupy nearly half the available space despite having agreed to sleep in the corner.

Chen Yichen, on the other hand, had yet to fall completely asleep.

He lay on his side with his eyes closed, his breathing steady and his mind partially immersed in meditation.

Having grown accustomed to cultivating whenever he had spare time, he had developed the habit of maintaining a faint circulation of spiritual energy even while resting.

It was not particularly effective, but it allowed him to cultivate without needing to remain fully awake.

Beside him, Chen Xiaoyu had been lying quietly for some time.

At first, Yichen had assumed she had fallen asleep as well. However, sometime later, he noticed a slight change in the rhythm of her breathing.

It was subtle enough that he almost missed it.

Her breathing slowed, paused briefly, and then resumed at a more deliberate pace. A moment later, her fingers moved beneath the blanket before she slowly opened her eyes.

There was no sign of drowsiness on her face.

Chen Xiaoyu stared at the ceiling for a while, her expression indifferent. She did not immediately sit up or look around the room.

Instead, she remained still, as though quietly listening to something beyond the walls.

After a short while, she shifted the blanket aside and sat up.

She first lowered her feet onto the wooden floor, then carefully adjusted her clothes before turning her gaze toward the others.

Her eyes passed over Minghao and Yuexin, who remained sound asleep, before settling briefly on Yichen.

He had not moved. Satisfied, Xiaoyu slowly stood up.

There was no sound.

Not even the slightest creak came from the old wooden floor beneath her feet. Her movements were so light that it almost seemed as though her body carried no weight at all.

She stepped around, passed through the narrow space near the doorway, and quietly slipped out of the room.

Chen Yichen opened one eye. his attention had already followed Xiaoyu toward the doorway.

What is she doing?

She’s going somewhere? At this hour?

Yichen kept his body still, listening carefully.

Chen Yichen remained still for a while after Xiaoyu disappeared through the doorway, his half-open eye following the direction she had taken.

He waited until he was certain Minghao and Yuexin were still fast asleep before slowly withdrawing his spiritual energy from meditation.

Then, without making any unnecessary movements, he lifted the blanket and sat up.

He glanced at the two sleeping figures. Minghao was lying awkwardly near the edge of the bed, while Yuexin had turned away from everyone, seemingly unwilling to be disturbed even in her sleep.

Yichen shook his head faintly before slipping out of the room.

The corridor was quiet. He could hear neither the old woman’s movements nor Xiaoyu’s footsteps, but he could still sense a faint trace of her presence beyond the house.

It was weak, almost indistinguishable from the surrounding spiritual energy, yet enough for him to follow.

She’s rather good at concealing herself.

He stepped outside and carefully closed the door behind him.

The village was immersed in darkness. Moonlight stretched across the empty pathways, casting long shadows beneath the abandoned houses.

A cold breeze passed through the narrow streets, carrying with it the faint scent of damp earth and old wood.

Yichen followed Xiaoyu from a distance, keeping to the shadows whenever the path opened into wider spaces.

He did not rush. Whenever she stopped, he stopped as well, using the corners of deserted houses and the remains of low stone walls to keep himself out of sight.

He had no particular reason to suspect her of anything. Still, her strange behaviour had stirred his curiosity, and he wanted to know what she was doing before deciding whether to return.

After passing several houses, Xiaoyu gradually moved toward the back of the village.

The buildings became fewer, and the ground beyond them opened into a stretch of uneven land covered with weeds. A few broken fences stood nearby, their wooden posts leaning at different angles.

Beyond them, beneath the pale moonlight, was a small mound of earth.

Yichen slowed down.

Xiaoyu approached it without hesitation.

She stopped before the mound and stood there for a long while, her gaze fixed on its surface. Then she lowered herself into a crouch, brushing aside some of the weeds growing along its edge.

Yichen found a suitable place behind a collapsed section of stone wall and quietly settled there. From that position, he could see her clearly without being exposed.

He watched as Xiaoyu reached into her sleeve and took out something small. The moonlight was too faint for him to identify it, but she held it carefully between her fingers before placing it against the ground.

Then she began removing the weeds around the mound.

Yichen narrowed his eyes.

A mound?

He looked at the raised earth again, then back at Xiaoyu.

What’s she trying to do?

She did not appear to be searching for anything buried beneath it. Nor did she seem to be cultivating. Her movements were slow, almost like someone tending to a neglected grave.

After a while, Yichen could no longer contain his curiosity.

He stepped out from behind the broken wall.

"Xiaoyu?"

Her body immediately stiffened.

She turned around so quickly that the object in her hand nearly slipped.

For a brief moment, her usual expression disappeared, replaced by a flash of alarm.

She hurriedly closed her fingers around whatever she had been holding and drew her hand toward her chest.

"Y-Yichen?"

He stopped a few steps away, raising both hands slightly to show that he had no intention of approaching her abruptly.

"Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you."

Xiaoyu looked at him, then briefly toward the mound. Her hand remained hidden behind her sleeve.

Yichen glanced at it but did not press her about it.

"It’s fine," he said gently. "I just wanted to know what you were doing out here. You left without saying anything, and I happened to notice."

Xiaoyu lowered her gaze.

For a moment, she seemed uncertain whether to answer.

Then she slowly turned back toward the mound, her expression returning to its usual expression, though something about her eyes had changed.

"G-grandma might not explain why this village is empty," she said quietly, "but... I have some experience with villages like this."

Yichen followed her gaze.

"Because of your family?"

She nodded.

"My family belongs to another branch. We have dealt with villages and ordinary people for a long time. I’ve heard stories, and I’ve seen places like this before."

She paused, brushing a little more dirt from the mound with her fingertips.

"When a village becomes empty, you should look for a mound."

Yichen looked at the raised earth.

"A mound?"

Xiaoyu nodded.

"That’s where they were buried."

He stared at it for a moment before turning back to her.

"They?"

"All of them."

Her answer was quiet, almost matter-of-fact, but she did not look away from the mound.

Yichen’s expression gradually changed. He looked around the surrounding land again, taking in the abandoned houses, the overgrown pathways, and the silence that had seemed so unusual when they first arrived.

"So everyone in this village..."

"Perhaps not everyone," Xiaoyu replied. "But most of them, at least."

She lowered herself again and gently moved aside a thin branch that had fallen across the mound.

"Usually, it’s because there isn’t enough food. Sometimes it’s a disease. The people here might have been unable to leave, or perhaps they simply didn’t have anywhere to go."

Her voice remained calm, yet her movements had become slower, "The world is too vast. Ordinary people cannot travel wherever they want. Even if they know there’s help somewhere beyond the mountains, they might not have the strength or resources to reach it."

She glanced toward the dark village behind them.

"When war breaks out, merchants stop coming to places like this. The roads become dangerous, and fewer people are willing to travel through remote villages. Without merchants, they lose one of the few ways to obtain things they cannot produce themselves."

Her fingers rested against the earth.

"And when food runs short, or a disease spreads, there may be no one coming to help them."

Yichen remained silent.

He had seen villages before, some prosperous and others poor. He had also encountered ordinary people struggling to survive in places far from the larger cities.

Yet he had never given much thought to what happened when an entire settlement was left behind.

He looked at the mound again.

Under the moonlight, it was not particularly large. A few weeds had grown over its surface, and the edges had begun to blend into the surrounding earth.

There were no markers, no names, and no signs indicating how many people had been buried there.

Just a mound.

"How... did you know?" he asked.

"Because I’ve seen one before, " She slowly withdrew her hand and looked at her fingers, which had become stained with dirt.

"When a village is abandoned, people often think everyone simply left. But ordinary people don’t always have the means to leave. Sometimes, they remain until there is no one left to bury them properly."

Her gaze returned to the mound.

"And sometimes, those who survive are the ones who bury the others."

For a while, neither of them spoke.

The night breeze passed through the weeds, causing their thin stalks to sway gently around the mound.

Somewhere in the distance, a loose wooden board creaked against an abandoned house, the sound carrying across the empty village before fading away.

Yichen looked at Xiaoyu’s hand, still partially concealed within her sleeve.

He did not ask what she had taken out earlier.

Instead, he stepped closer and stood beside her, looking down at the earth, "So you came here to pay your respects?"

Xiaoyu gave a small nod.

"Something like that."

Yichen glanced at the mound once more.

He had initially followed her out of curiosity, expecting perhaps to discover some unusual cultivation method or secret activity.

Instead, he had found himself standing before the resting place of an entire village.

He lowered his gaze.

"...I see."

Xiaoyu did not respond. She simply remained beside the mound, her expression the same, while the silence of the abandoned village settled around them once more.

"Actually, I came here because I wanted to do something."

Chen Yichen glanced at her. "Something?"

Before he could ask what she meant, Xiaoyu took a small step away from the mound. She placed the object she had been holding carefully upon the earth, then turned to face the open space before it.

"I’m going to perform a spiritual technique," she said. "It’s a little peculiar, so... don’t be surprised."

Yichen opened his mouth, but the words he had been about to say never came out.

Xiaoyu had already begun.

She raised one hand, her fingers moving in a slow, delicate gesture.

A faint shimmer of spiritual energy gathered around her fingertips, so subtle at first that Yichen almost mistook it for moonlight caught upon her skin.

Then, with a gentle turn of her wrist, the energy unfolded.

A flower appeared.

It was small, no larger than the tip of her thumb, and made entirely of pale pink spiritual energy.

Its petals were translucent, their edges glowing softly like the first light of dawn passing through a thin veil of mist.

It hovered above her palm for a brief moment before separating into several smaller petals, each one drifting away on the night breeze.

Then another flower bloomed.

And another.

They emerged around Xiaoyu one after another, not bursting into existence with the force of a technique meant for battle, but opening gradually, as though an invisible garden were awakening around her.

Their delicate pink light spread across the darkness, illuminating the weeds, the old mound, and the weathered stones scattered nearby.

Yichen stood motionless.

Xiaoyu began to dance.

Her first step was slow, her foot lightly touching the ground before she turned, allowing the hem of her robe to follow the motion.

Her arms moved in a graceful arc, one hand rising while the other lowered, and her body turned with a measured rhythm that seemed to belong to an older age.

Each step seemed to invite the flowers into motion, while every turn of her wrist sent another stream of pink petals drifting into the air.

It was a traditional dance, Yichen realized, though he could not name it. They were too soft, too fluid...

There was a certain solemnity in the way Xiaoyu moved, but it was not the solemnity of mourning.

Her expression remained peaceful, and as she turned beneath the pale moonlight, the faintest smile gradually appeared upon her face.

The flowers multiplied.

At first, there had been only a few dozen.

Then hundreds. Soon, thousands of delicate pink petals were floating around the mound, rising from the earth and spiralling through the air as though an entire garden had been scattered into the night sky.

Some drifted close to the ground, brushing over the weeds and settling briefly upon the soil before dissolving into specks of light. Others climbed higher, circling Xiaoyu in wide, flowing streams before spreading outward above the village.

The darkness was slowly filled with pink.

Petals passed through the broken roofs and over the abandoned houses, slipping between the empty streets where no one had walked for who knew how long.

They gathered above the mound like a vast, flowering canopy, their light reflecting upon the surrounding earth and casting countless soft shadows across the grass.

A few floated past Yichen’s shoulders, so close that he instinctively lifted his hand, only for one to pass through his fingers and dissolve against his skin.

He watched them rise.

For a moment, he forgot that he was standing in an abandoned village.

He forgot the silence of its empty houses, the dust upon its roads, and the people who had once lived here but were now buried beneath the earth before him.

All he could see was Xiaoyu.

Her movements remained unhurried, each step following the last with a natural grace.

She turned beneath the drifting flowers, her silver hair catching their pink light, and the expression on her face seemed far removed from the quiet girl who had spent the evening sitting at the table with them.

There was no embarrassment in her movements, nor any hesitation.

She danced as though she had performed this ritual countless times before, and as though the empty village were not a place of death, but an audience she had come to visit.

"My mother taught me this," Xiaoyu said softly, her voice carrying through the night without interrupting her dance.

Yichen did not answer. He was afraid that even a quiet reply might disturb the strange beauty of the moment.

"She said that when people pass away, everyone thinks the best thing to do is mourn them. To cry, to grieve, and to remember how much they have lost."

Xiaoyu turned, her sleeves trailing behind her as a fresh wave of petals rose from her fingertips. "But she also said that perhaps the best way to send the dead off..."

Her steps slowed. She lifted both hands, and the flowers gathered around her in a great spiral, their pink light spreading over the mound.

"...is not to mourn, but to be happy."

The last words were accompanied by a gentle turn.

Thousands of petals rose together.

They surged upward from the ground, swept around Xiaoyu, and climbed into the sky in a magnificent stream.

For an instant, the entire space above the mound seemed to blossom, as though countless flowers had opened at once beneath the night.

Their pink radiance spread across the clouds, turning the darkness into something dreamlike, while the petals continued to drift and circle, never quite touching the ground.

The people buried here had suffered. Perhaps they had starved, fallen ill, or died without ever receiving help from the outside world.

Their final days might have been filled with fear and despair, and there was nothing Yichen could do to change what had happened.

But Xiaoyu had come here to give them something else.

Not tears nor was it pity. But rather, a dance beneath the moon, and a sky full of flowers.

Yichen lowered his gaze to the mound. A pink petal drifted down and settled upon the earth before fading into a tiny glimmer of light.

He found himself holding his breath, his chest feeling strangely tight as he pressed his right hand against it.

He had never thought much about how ordinary people lived or died.

To him, a village was often little more than a place to rest, replenish supplies, or gather information before continuing their journey.

Its people came and went, their lives unfolding far beyond the concerns of those who pursued the path of immortality.

Yet standing here, watching Xiaoyu dance for people whose names he did not know, he suddenly felt the weight of their lives...

He looked back at her.

The girl who usually spoke so little was now moving beneath thousands of glowing flowers, her steps carrying a warmth that seemed to reach every corner of the abandoned village.

And as the last of the flowers rose above the village, Chen Yichen found himself watching in silence, unwilling to be the first to look away.