The veiled beauty stood tall and serene atop the platform, her presence as still and graceful. Her hands rested gently beneath her chin, and her eyes shadowed behind the delicate veil.
Each man stood poised, hearts pounding. The tension in the air was sharp, heavy. They all waited for her judgment—yearning to be chosen, to bask in her light for even a moment.
Her finger moved at last.
Slowly, teasingly, her hand drifted from one side of the crowd to the other, stirring frenzy with a single gesture. Whispers bloomed like wildfire.
"There! She's looking my way!"
"No, no, I'm directly in her line of sight. She's going to choose me!"
"Don't be stupid. Look at my robe—it's embroidered! She'll pick me for my style!"
But all their anticipations were dashed the moment her delicate hand stilled… and pointed unmistakably toward the one person who wasn't begging for her attention.
A boy with flowing black hair. His eyes—those blood-red irises—stood out even in the crowd. Dangerous. Mesmerizing. Alive.
Zheng Xie.
"You," the veiled beauty declared, her voice gentle yet commanding, "will join me on the stage. I trust no one here has any objections."
She bowed slightly, her robe cascading like liquid silk down her sides.
The crowd fell into stunned silence, as if the wind itself had ceased to breathe.
Zheng Xie didn't respond.
His jaw was tight, lips pressed into a thin line. His gaze locked with hers. There was no joy in his eyes—only stillness. His hand, still holding Ling Xue's, tensed. Then clenched tighter.
And then, just as quickly, released.
He turned to her briefly, lips parted to say something but no words came. Only a soft exhale. His eyes seemed distant.
And then, without another word, he stepped forward.
The crowd parted like waves at his approach.
"Ahhh… I wasn't chosen…"
"Lucky bastard! Did you see how she looked at him? Like she'd been waiting for him…"
"He's not bad looking. But if he tries anything lecherous, we'll beat him to a pulp!"
"Moron! You don't recognize him? That's Zheng Xie."
"Wait—the second son of the Zheng family?! The infamous righteous family?"
"The very one. No wonder she chose him…"
Back on the stage, Zheng Xie approached slowly. He stopped before the goddess and knelt, his left hand held behind his back while the right reached forward.
"This Zheng Xie is humbled and grateful to be chosen by the goddess to accompany her."
His voice was respectful, polished.
The veiled beauty's smile deepened. She extended her hand and placed it atop his own, guiding him to his feet. Her eyes—those emerald orbs now exposed fully for him to see—were warm.
She studied his face closely, almost reverently, her fingers tracing the air beside his jaw without touching. "The pleasure is all mine," she said, each syllable flowing like nectar.
Then, with a subtle motion, she leaned in closer—so close her breath danced against his ear.
"Shall we begin?" she whispered, her tone sultry.
Zheng Xie gave a faint nod.
The beauty smiled again, and with one fluid motion, she guided his hand to her waist.
She stepped into him. Her slender frame pressed against his, her head resting gently on his chest like a lover.
Gasps echoed throughout the plaza.
The crowd was losing its mind.
"Ahh!! I'm going to cry! Why not me?! Why did it have to be him?!"
"I—I don't even care anymore. That could've been me, man! I swear I would've held her like a precious jade!"
"Please, shut your miserable trap. You look like a shriveled potato. Our goddess wouldn't sully her robes with your presence."
"That's so mean! At least let me dream, you heartless brute!"
"Listen to yourselves! Instead of weeping over missed chances, behold the moment! The goddess is going to dance for us mortals. What more do you want?"
"That's true…"
"You're right, that's the spirit!"
More cheers erupted as people pushed forward, craning their necks for a better view.
But on the stage, Zheng Xie remained perfectly composed, his hand firm on her waist, his other extended to match the beginning stance of an old, elegant form of duet dance.
Yet inside, his thoughts were…
'Mystic… I hope you don't disappoint me.'
As the zither's melody swelled into the night, the music began.
Zheng Xie's hand rested gently on the veiled beauty's waist, while their other hands were interwoven—fingers locked with a natural intimacy. Their movements flowed in perfect harmony.
With every step, they glided as if the very ground bent to their rhythm. His gaze was locked into hers—blood-red eyes glittering with warmth—and her own gaze responded with a serenity that could melt glaciers.
To the crowd, they were an immortal couple—an ethereal pair descended from the upper realms to bless the mortal world with their love, grace, and radiance.
Cheers had turned into reverent silence. Awe reigned. All who watched felt themselves pulled into the magnetism of their perfect synchronicity, their chemistry tangible, their presence intoxicating.
But not everyone watched in wonder.
Among the onlookers, cloaked in a simple black robe, stood Ling Xue. Her fists clenched tightly beneath her sleeves, her breathing shallow and uneven, her composure fraying.
Her eyes fixated on the scene before her—on him.
Zheng Xie.
He—who once vowed to never look at another woman the way he looked at her.
He—whose gentle teasing and unwavering presence had always belonged solely to her.
Now he was dancing, lovingly, with another.
Her heart twisted violently, as if invisible thorns were coiling around it, each breath harder than the last. 'This isn't right. He was mine—my light, my warmth…'
A bitter thought rose unbidden.
'But maybe this is better… maybe it's good if he finds someone else… someone pure… someone orthodox. But this hurts… it hurts so much…'
She shook her head violently. 'No!' she scolded herself, teeth grinding. 'It's good this way! I'm tainted… filthy… someone like him doesn't need someone as broken as me.'
And yet—watching him… smiling at another… his hand placed on another's waist… whispering to another's ear…
She could barely breathe.
A sharp gasp escaped her lips. Her fingernails dug into her palm. 'But why does it hurt so much?'
It wasn't rational. But the pain was real.
Jealousy, longing, anger, guilt, despair—all of it churned violently in her chest.
'He was supposed to be mine.'
And then, without thinking, her legs moved on their own. Ling Xue walked forward, past the startled whispers of onlookers, her robe swaying with each step.
The crowd stilled. The zither music paused for a heartbeat. All eyes turned.
A black-robed figure approached the dancing duo.
Zheng Xie didn't react. His expression remained blank, vacant—his red eyes dull.
Ling Xue stepped onto the stage.
With a sharp click of her tongue, she extended her hand, reaching for Zheng Xie's wrist, intent on pulling him back. "Brother Zheng, it's late. Let's leave. We've already overstayed."
But before she could make contact—
Another hand intercepted her.
It was soft yet firm, graceful yet unyielding.
The veiled beauty turned, her voice gentle but commanding. "What are you doing, dear guest? Our dance has not yet reached its end."
Ling Xue's brows furrowed. "How long are you going to dance?"
The beauty smiled. "Till the music ends."
Ling Xue grit her teeth. "It doesn't matter. Brother Zheng, let's go."
Zheng Xie didn't move.
His lips parted slowly, almost mechanically. "No. I will stay here. If you want to, you can go yourself."
Ling Xue froze.
"…What?"
His gaze didn't meet hers. His tone didn't shift.
"No. I will stay here. If you want to, you can go yourself."
His words were cold. Lifeless and hollow.
Ling Xue's breath hitched. Her heart sank.
"What… what are you saying…?"
The veiled woman chuckled softly, brushing her fingertips along Zheng Xie's shoulder. "You heard him, didn't you? He's made his choice. Please… don't disrupt our performance any further. The crowd awaits our next dance."
Ling Xue turned her head back and forth between them, her heart thudding louder than the drums of a marching army.
No…
No… this wasn't happening.
This wasn't how things were supposed to go.
Zheng Xie… her Zheng Xie… couldn't possibly look this indifferent. Couldn't possibly ignore her voice. Couldn't possibly choose another—
But he had.
And the crowd?
"Get off the stage already!"
"She's ruining the performance!"
"Why is this jealous brat interrupting? He clearly chose someone else!"
"Hah, must be one of those spurned lovers. Can't take the loss gracefully."
Ling Xue stood paralyzed. She stared at Zheng Xie again, searching for a flicker of recognition, a trace of emotion, a single shred of him.
But he remained still. Unmoving. Eyes distant. As though… he wasn't even truly there.
The crowd's voices grew harsher. Louder.
"Maybe she's possessed?"
"Get out of here! Let the couple dance!"
"They look perfect together—like true immortals!"
Ling Xue took a trembling step back.
Then another.
And another.
Her fingers slipped into her sleeves, clutching the fabric tightly as tears finally streamed down her cheeks beneath the shadow of her hood.
'I see… I'm not needed anymore.'
She turned.
And disappeared into the crowd—swallowed whole by the darkness of the festival night.
Zheng Xie didn't look back.
Not even once.
…
Ling Xue bolted from the city.
Her steps were wild and uncoordinated, fueled by emotion rather than reason. She stumbled through the outer districts, tears falling without restraint.
"Brother Xie…" she whispered, voice trembling, chest tightening. "I… I love you."
The words came out raw and vulnerable. But even as they escaped her lips, they tasted bitter. Bitter with guilt. Bitter with fear.
Because she knew—her love wasn't meant to be.
Not because he didn't feel the same. No, that was the cruel irony of it all. She knew Zheng Xie had always loved her. His every glance, every attempt to make her laugh, every quiet night he waited outside her cottage just to make sure she slept well—they were undeniable proof.
But she also knew who she was.
A Soul Cultivator.
One who had walked paths filled with murder, blood, and things the righteous sects deemed profane. She was filth in the eyes of his family. Of the world. And more than that—in her own.
"I'm not worthy of him…" she choked out, stumbling against the bark of a towering tree on the outskirts of the city. Her knees gave way. She collapsed at its base, wrapping her arms tightly around herself, burying her face in her arms.
Her sobs echoed through the silent night.
"I tried… I really tried… to push him away… to sever this connection before it could ruin him…"
She gritted her teeth, trembling.
"But I failed…"
Her heart ached more fiercely than it ever had in her life. No cultivation technique could numb this pain. No pill could mend it. This was the pain of loving too much…
'Why did he have to choose me?'
'Why couldn't he fall for someone clean… someone his family could accept… someone not like me?'
'Why—why did he keep holding on, even when I hurt him so many times?'
She tried to breathe, but every inhale felt like knives cutting through her ribs.
Her thoughts turned chaotic.
'And still… after all that… he looked at that woman the way he used to look at me. As if I didn't exist anymore.'
Her fingers clenched into the soil beneath her. Her nails scraped against the roots.
'Is this what he felt…?'
She bit her lip until it bled.
'When he saw me near Wu Zhu… acting close… laughing with him… even though I never meant anything by it… was this how much it hurt him?'
Her body shuddered.
'Was this… karma?'
She slammed her fist into the ground, unable to contain the cry that tore from her throat.
"AHHHHHHH!!"
She screamed into the night like a wounded beast, uncaring if someone heard. Because none of it mattered.
Except him.
Except Zheng Xie.
'I broke him… and still he loved me… still he tried to make me happy… still he chased me, time and again…'
Her vision blurred again as hot tears rolled down her cheeks.
'He loved me even when I hated myself.'
And then—like lightning—it struck her.
A horrifying thought.
Her sobs halted.
Zheng Xie's love was pure.
Too pure.
He wasn't the type of man to suddenly abandon her—no matter how much she pushed him away. That blank look in his eyes… those mechanical words…
"That's not him," she whispered, breath catching.
Her eyes widened.
"He was anxious when we arrived… yes… he was clenching my hand tightly, as if grounding himself… and everyone else—everyone was entranced."
She stood abruptly, heart pounding.
"I knew it felt wrong. The performer… the melody… it wasn't normal. It wasn't art. It was a technique—some kind of high-grade charm. A spiritual entrapment!"
Her body turned cold as realization sunk its fangs deep into her mind.
"Brother Xie isn't dancing with her by choice…"
Her lips trembled. "He's under a spell."
A crushing weight fell upon her chest. Her hands curled into fists. Sweat formed on her brow despite the chill in the night air.
'And I—' she clutched her heart '—I just left him there. I turned my back and ran. I—'
"No! No, no, no!!!" she screamed again, this time not in anguish, but in sheer terror.
'He needs me. I left him behind… when he needed me most!'
She bolted upright and took off like a shadow through the trees.
Each step was desperate. Frenzied. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of regret and urgency.
'Please be safe, Brother Xie… please… I'm coming. I'll save you.'
Her breath was ragged. Her legs screamed in protest.
But she ran harder.
'I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…'
The festival lights reappeared in the distance. Her eyes widened with hope as she pushed herself forward, barreling through the thinning crowd.
But the moment she stepped into the plaza—
Her heart sank.
Her legs stopped. Her breathing hitched.
The music was gone.
The stage—empty.
The crowd—scattered.
The zither—the performer—Zheng Xie—
All of them were gone.
"…No."
Her voice was barely a whisper.
"…No!"
She darted forward, eyes searching every direction, looking, praying, begging to see even a hint of that familiar red-eyed figure.
But all she found was emptiness.
Gone... Everything was gone.