It was midday in spring in Qingshui Town.
The streets were bustling with crowds and a continuous stream of carriages and horses. In a lawless, mixed-bag place like Qingshui Town where humans, gods, and demons lived together, there was a unique and thriving prosperity to be seen.
Master Wen, dressed in an unassuming aqua-blue robe with his hair casually tied back, carried a conspicuous, bulging large bundle that kept its contents a mystery. He strolled leisurely down the street, looking completely at ease. Most of the storefronts on either side of the street had changed their signboards, and only a few familiar ones remained: the rabbit demon's steamed bun shop, Mazi's butcher shop, the tea stall on the street corner where people listened to stories...
Xuan's old wine shop was still there, and it seemed someone was still running it—likely one of Xuan's eyes planted in Qingshui Town. Master Wen walked openly right past the entrance without any attempt to hide. He knew very well that the moment he showed his face in Qingshui Town, Cang Xuan would know immediately. Xiyan Mountain, the Five Gods Mountains, and even Qingqiu would know. He paused inwardly, figuring that cold, solitary figure up on the mountain would surely know as well. Let them know, then. He had simply come to Qingshui Town; what was there to hide? At worst, this one would come looking for him, and that one would come searching for him. Let them come; was he afraid of them?
Lost in his thoughts with his head lowered, he wandered unconsciously to the doors of Huichuntang. The signboard and shopfront of Huichuntang were larger than they had been back then, and it looked much neater. It seemed Tian'er was running the place quite well. Master Wen stood before the entrance, unmoving. Decades had passed, and yet he had not once returned to see them. Looking back on these years, it felt as though he had done a great deal, and yet as though he had done nothing at all. He had gained nothing, remaining as utterly alone as Wen Xiaoliu had been when he first left. The only difference was that he had acquired so many identities and seemingly so many relatives. Yet today, he was still just as lonely and desolate. Even the person he once thought he could rely on was now a father. He could not help lowering his head and smiling bitterly at himself.
"This young master, are you feeling unwell? Please, come inside."
The speaker was a young man dressed like a physician, with refined features, a kind face, and a gentle voice.
"Oh, right."
Wen Xiaoliu followed him inside. On the left wall hung a neat cabinet of medicine drawers; in the center were the table and chairs for consultations; and the right side connected to the backyard. The setup was much as it had been back then—simple and unpretentious.
"Asheng, time to eat."
It was Old Mu's voice.
Following the sound, Wen Xiaoliu's eyes instantly welled up with tears. Old Mu was walking slowly out of the backyard. Decades had passed, and Old Mu had aged considerably, but his spirit was still quite good. After all, he was of the God Clan; he was still alive. How wonderful that was.
"Oh, there's... is this... here for a consultation?"
Xiaoliu stood rooted to the spot, motionless and unable to utter a single word, a trace of a smile on her face while her eyes welled with tears.
Sixty years—a mortal lifetime... (The timeline here has been altered compared to the original work; Old Mu is still alive.)
Old Mu looked at Xiaoliu, his figure swaying slightly as a shock crossed his eyes.
"Uncle Mu, you all go ahead and eat. I'll come as soon as I finish with this consultation; it wouldn't do to keep someone waiting," Asheng said, guiding Xiaoliu toward the consultation desk.
Xiaoliu still did not move.
"This... young master... it's midday, you haven't eaten yet, have you? If you don't mind, would you be willing to..."
"Willing, I'm willing... I haven't eaten since this morning," Xiaoliu said, turning and walking inside as she spoke to Asheng.
"Don't worry, double the consultation fee. I'm just starving, and if I went looking for an inn right now, I'd probably starve to death."
Asheng looked slightly dazed, muttering, "We can talk about that later; it's just a meal."
When Xiaoliu reached the backyard, it was still just as it used to be. The warm spring sunshine spilled into the yard, casting mottled patches of light and shadow through the tree canopy. The lounging chair Xiaoliu had loved the most back then was still there; it was clearly not the exact same one, but it had been placed in the exact same spot. She reached out and stroked the back of the chair, a thousand thoughts swirling in her mind.
Old Mu stared fixedly at her, the corners of his eyes flushed red.
"All these years, this lounging chair has broken, one after another... Let's eat first, you can come out and sun yourself after the meal." Old Mu seemed somewhat disjointed in his speech.
Under the shade of the trees, the dining table was already set. Sitting around the table were several children and an elderly woman.
"Uncle Mu, do we have a guest?"
"Here for a consultation, a passing traveler who hasn't eaten," Old Mu answered briefly.
"Tian'er, go get an extra set of chopsticks for the guest."
Sang Tian'er clearly froze for a moment. Uncle Mu had not called her that in many years, even though she knew Uncle Mu belonged to the God Clan and was much older than she was. Yet as so many years passed and she began to look even older than Old Mu, he had largely stopped using that name. Why today? Curious, she raised her head to look the guest over carefully.
The young master before her appeared to be in his early twenties, possessing an arresting, elegant grace with delicate skin, a rosy complexion, and a pair of curved peach-blossom eyes that were currently gazing at her, watery and brimming with smiles. Sang Tian'er was startled; based on experience, she concluded that this must be a woman dressed as a man. Yet try as she might, she could not recall ever knowing such a beauty. It was only those eyes that felt faintly familiar, though for a moment she couldn't quite place them.
"Miss... Young Master... Have we... met before?"
Old Mu took the bowl and chopsticks handed over by Asheng and set them before Xiaoliu.
"Let's eat, let's eat. It's just simple, coarse fare, though; I hope the young master won't find it hard to get used to."
"I'm used to it, I'm used to it. I'm no young master from some precious noble household; you can just call me Xiaoliu."
Sang Tian'er raised her eyes again to examine Xiaoliu closely, wearing a pensive look.
The children only took a few bites before chattering amongst themselves and running off to play. Xiaoliu followed the direction of the running children with smiling eyes. That was right—children were the most carefree, playing and making a fuss whenever they pleased, without having to worry about tomorrow or ponder the past.
"Those are Chuanzi's two grandsons and a granddaughter," Old Mu's voice broke the silence.
"Chuanzi had three sons in all. The two older ones both do business in town, and during the day the children are usually sent here to play. Asheng is the youngest; he hasn't married yet and stays close to Tian'er. He's also the one most like Tian'er—smart and eager to learn medicine. Tian'er has passed all her skills down to him. Fortunately with him around, Huichuntang can be considered to have someone to carry on the tradition."
"Chuanzi..." Xiaoliu asked.
"Mazi and Chuanzi passed away years ago. Mazi also has a house full of children and grandchildren; his son is still running that butcher shop." Old Mu sighed.
"Ah, birth, aging, sickness, and death—it's only human nature." Old Mu paused, looked at the children chasing and frolicking under the shade of the trees, a smile appearing on his face as he continued,
"Fortunately, we have these children making a racket all day long, so it's not lonely. People, after all, must always look forward."
Indeed, people must always look forward. To mortals, a mere few decades passed in the blink of an eye in the eyes of the gods—not even worth mentioning. Yet, looking at these people, despite their hardships, lack of spiritual power, and absence of magic, they were all living passionately. Under the rule of powerful gods and surrounded by formidable demons, they were small yet resilient. Their lives were short, but they reproduced generation after generation, endlessly. Relying on their formidable survival instincts, they had carved out a place for themselves in this Great Wasteland.
Xiaoyao thought of herself. For the past few decades, even hundreds of years, she seemed to have done nothing but wallow in self-pity. She resented her mother for abandoning her, resented her royal father for not coming to fetch her, resented even the Queen Mother for her coldness, and resented Tushan Jing for his betrayal. It seemed everyone had wronged her. Yet she had never once considered that she was a high-ranking member of the God Clan, holding the noble status of a royal princess of two nations. Her royal father doted on her, her grandfather cherished her, and she was the disciple of the Queen Mother of Yushan. Now that Cang Xuan was the King of Xuanyuan, she had gained yet another identity as a royal sister. Looking across the entire Great Wasteland, what other woman possessed a nobility of status to rival hers? What reason did she have to wallow in self-pity any longer? Looking at the children under the tree shade and Sang Tian'er's aged face, she suddenly felt a wave of shame.
That's right, why do people suffer? Truly, it is because they are never content. Having this, they want that; wanting everything at once, how could they not suffer? Mortals, within such a brief lifetime, clearly knowing what they wanted, still lived passionately and brilliantly. And what about her? A high-ranking god blessed with a long life, how had she somehow lost her way?
She remembered that day on Xiyan Mountain when she had said to Cang Xuan in utter despair, "Brother, help me find a man!"
At that time, she was disheartened and completely defeated. She had actually thought of casually marrying someone, spending her days planting flowers and raising fish, applying rouge and powder, and when idle, attending banquets to gossip with a bunch of women, just passing the rest of her life that way. Therefore, when Cang Xuan suggested she marry Fenglong, she had almost agreed. Chishui Fenglong was good-looking, of fine character, came from a great family background, and would be a help to her brother. No matter how she looked at it, he was an ideal match—it couldn't be more suitable, and she truly had almost said yes.
Yet in the end, she didn't agree. When Cang Xuan thought she would surely accept, and when Chishui Fenglong also thought she would surely accept, defying everyone's expectations, she refused. Even her grandfather had flashed a trace of surprise upon learning she had turned down a match that seemed as fitting as could be.
Why did she refuse? Yes, why did she refuse?
Perhaps it was because she feared those predictable, repeating days stretching out endlessly to the horizon; perhaps it was because she feared the gazes of Cang Xuan's women—that look of yearning for a man's favor, devoid of any self. Perhaps it was because she feared those deep, high-walled residential compounds, that square patch of sky that trapped a woman's entire life. Or perhaps it was simply because she was, at heart, a wild, untamed princess; she was still, in truth, Wen Xiaoliu. That vibrant Wen Xiaoliu whom she had almost forgotten for so many years.