That night, Ling Xiuyuan could not tell when sleep claimed him. The incense in his chamber had burned low, and moonlight spilled pale across the lacquered floor. Outside, the wind combed through the plum trees — their blossoms only beginning to open — and carried faint notes of something half-forgotten: laughter, bright as chimes.
He found himself standing once more beneath those very trees, though the branches now bent heavy with full bloom. Petals drifted like snow in the mild air, and the world shimmered with the haze of spring. The air was soft with sunlight, and the faint scent of wine and ink mixed in the breeze.
"Shizun," a voice called, bright with mischief.
He turned — and there was Shen Liuxian, in white robes too light for the season, hair undone, a smile on his lips. His eyes gleamed with the unrestrained ease of youth, of someone who had never learned restraint.
"Why are you here?" Xiuyuan whispered. But his voice came out as the younger man's once had — low, uncertain, alive.
Liuxian only laughed and reached out, plucking a petal from Xiuyuan's hair."Because you're always too serious. The sect won't crumble if you smile once in a while."
He said it as he always had, half-teasing, half-earnest — and before Xiuyuan could reply, Liuxian had already darted away through the trees. Xiuyuan followed, helplessly drawn by the ripple of that white silhouette among the blossoms.
They ended up by the old courtyard pond, where Liuxian crouched on the stones, feeding crumbs of pastry to the koi. "Look," he said, pointing, "that one's grown fat. You spoil them the way you spoil me."
Xiuyuan knelt beside him. "You call that spoiled? You're the one stealing my sweets every evening."
Liuxian grinned. "Then stop leaving them where I can find them."
Their shoulders brushed. The world felt smaller there — bounded by the quiet pond, the faint echo of the sect's bells, the shimmer of plum petals falling around them. Xiuyuan wanted to freeze that moment forever: Liuxian's laughter, the light on his face, the warmth that spilled between them in the silence after.
"Shizun," Liuxian murmured, softer now, as if afraid to disturb the hush that had settled."When spring ends… let's go to the southern valley. The peach trees there bloom later — you'll like them."
Xiuyuan looked at him then, fully — the fine tilt of his brows, the quiet fire in his eyes. "And if I say yes?"
Liuxian smiled. "Then you'll have to keep your promise. You always say you're too busy. This time, don't break it."
The petal he held fell into the pond. Ripples scattered their reflections — two faces blurring, meeting, parting again.
And suddenly, everything changed. The blossoms darkened, the water stilled, and Liuxian's smile wavered, as if something unseen had begun to pull him away.
"Wait—" Xiuyuan reached out, grasping for his sleeve — but the fabric dissolved into light, into falling petals that scattered on the wind.
"Don't go," Xiuyuan whispered.
Only the echo of laughter remained, faint and far, threading through the plum-scented air.
He woke with tears on his cheeks. Moonlight still lay on the floor. Mingyue stood by the window, silent, the lamplight drawing a pale halo around him. For a long time, Xiuyuan could not move — only watch that still figure, caught between dream and waking, between past and present.
"Mingyue…" he said at last, the name trembling on his lips like something half-remembered.
The young man turned. His eyes were calm — yet for a heartbeat, Xiuyuan thought he saw the same light there, the same glimmer of spring long gone.
When Mingyue bowed and withdrew, Xiuyuan remained seated on the edge of the bed, fingers pressed to his temples. The scent of plum blossoms lingered faintly in the air.
It could not be coincidence.
The dream, the resemblance, the way Mingyue's voice had carried the same inflection, the same trace of warmth that haunted his nights.
If there was truly a soul beneath heaven who could return after death — could it be him?
Xiuyuan's hands tightened on the bedsheets. The calm he had built, the quiet walls of mourning, all wavered.He could no longer endure this half-life of doubt and yearning.
He had to know.
When dawn broke over Jingshou Peak, Ling Xiuyuan rose from his bed with steady purpose. His eyes, still shadowed from the night's dream, held a quiet resolve.
If Mingyue was truly Shen Liuxian returned — or something wearing his face — he would find out.
No matter what truth awaited him.