Tick, tock.The turning of the sundial, moment by moment, struck—lightly or heavily—upon every soul in the world who cared to notice. Fear bred anxiety, and the markings of life quietly slipped away with each chime of the clock against the heart. Only at the end did one realize it had all been a fleeting dream, this life an illusion. As if clutching the hour hand and silver, every experience became a quantifiable bargaining chip.
The people of Bailing Village paid little heed to time, letting their lives drift day after day between sunrise and sunset. Their expressions carried a certain softness and serenity, as the morning light bathed the dewdrops on the trees anew each dawn. As a child, Shui Qian would fold grass blades into toys, often swaying gently on the swing in front of her home. Until one day, demonic beasts shattered this peace. A horde of centipede demons, grotesque in form, spewed miasma, and thick, dark clouds rolled in, plunging the village into pitch-black gloom.
It was from that moment that the village chief united the people to learn demon-repelling arts. Shui Qian's family, already respected, naturally took the lead in times of crisis. Her father was a man of formidable power and great prestige, and Shui Qian herself displayed extraordinary talent in the mystic arts from a young age—compassionate in heart, steadfast in discipline. At sixteen, her father, while out hunting demons, was betrayed by his own kin. Before him lay the tangled webs of demonic beasts, and behind him, the very people he had sworn to protect.
The twang of a bowstring rang out—but the arrow pierced *his* chest. Shui Qian remained silent.
In the years that followed, she became the village's main force against the demons. Gifted beyond mortal limits, her arrows carried such lethal precision that even the fiercest beasts fell before her. Bailing Village regained a long-lost tranquility, and the people hailed her as the "Divine Maiden."
What she did not yet understand was that a "Divine Maiden" was a god enshrined by worship.
Time flowed like water. Bearing the weight of duty, Shui Qian often stood vigilant even in the dead of night. Demons were cunning—they could take the form of loved ones—forcing her to remain ever-wary, her rationality bordering on cold detachment...
Romance, rouge, and flowing skirts held no place in her life. The youthful innocence that belonged to a girl her age had long been stripped away. Her eyes were deep as still pools, calm and inscrutable, holding all the sorrows and joys of the world yet reflecting none. Every journey she undertook was a gamble with death, and life's fleeting pleasures grew as light as fallen leaves.
At twenty, disaster struck. She was focused on loosing an arrow at a fleeing shapeshifter when, unseen, a half-human serpent demon sank its fangs into her arm.
Mortal flesh was fragile. The venom spread. Knowing her days were numbered, she used the last of her power to erect a barrier, sealing away her longbow and laying herself to rest beneath the earth.
In the years that followed, Bailing Village thrived under the protection of her barrier, until gradually, no one remembered the Divine Maiden. The praises of the crowd always lift high only to crash down—to fade into obscurity was, in its own way, a mercy.
Humans forgot. But the demons did not.
Her entire life had been a war against them, unending, unyielding. Among them were those who coveted her power, seeking her out like a fabled "Tang Monk's flesh," tracing their way to her grave.
By some dark sorcery, they forcibly resurrected her—a soul called back in the form of the dead.
She returned to Bailing Village under a torrential downpour, only to be met with fear and rejection. Not a single soul welcomed her. In their eyes, she read only one word: *threat.*
Once, it had been the demons. Now, it was *her*—a revenant.
The villagers raised their shovels, flinging clods of earth over her, burying her just as they had on the day of her father's funeral.
"Back then, I arrived at a place much like this—an unnamed lakeshore. I sat and gazed into the water. No living thing in this world welcomed me back."Every meaning she had clung to had crumbled. Even the demon that resurrected her, seeing her as a threat rather than a tool, had long since abandoned her.
At the edge of the heavens, where does the fragrant grave lie?
Shui Qian held a piece of softwood, carving it carefully, stroke by stroke. The campfire flickered, casting her face in shifting light and shadow. Ming Xuan sat across from her on a cushion, listening as she spoke of her past.
"You think human lives are too short? That's true enough. Demons live long—unless they cross me. But in this form, I suppose I'll linger for a long time..."She laughed softly.
"You say you're a fox demon? In all my years hunting demons, I've rarely met one. By your logic, the ones I've slain were just dim-witted nuisances. I'd rather not run into a fox demon anytime soon."
"Where am I going? A thousand miles from Bailing Village lies Mount Ailuo, the birthplace of its demons. I intend to pay it a visit." She answered thus, swallowing the rest of her words like bitter tea.
"Anger... Well, isn't that a kind of living too?" she murmured, the night stretching long as a sigh.
Ming Xuan embraced her. The warmth and vitality of a living being seeped into Shui Qian's fingertips—unfamiliar, scalding. For a moment, she seemed to revert to that solitary girl, burdened and alone. And Ming Xuan, who had stumbled into this foreign world without understanding why, felt his heart fill, for the first time, with trust and solace.
What need is there to have met before?
The fire in the hearth danced, leaving only warmth to roam the room.
Ming Xuan held her for a long time. He had lived through so many years, yet in this moment, he wished time would stop.