Xue Rong left without a word at dawn, leaving only a note in her room.
On her journey home, she silently recited the dates she had memorized. As the Lunar New Year approached, lanterns already adorned some streets, but she hurried past, the Minister's residence shrinking behind her like a distant vortex.
Time slipped by. On the eve of the New Year, the Xi household buzzed with gift preparations and visitors, yet Xue Rong barricaded herself in her room. Curled beneath blankets, she trembled, fixated on the date Bai Changming had marked—*the Guihai day of the Jiashen month in the ninth year of Chongde*. His meticulous plans never faltered. She prayed under her breath.
"What? Rejected? How?!" A servant's shrill voice pierced the festive clamor. Her dread deepened.
Within hours, news arrived: trade in Chang'an had been abruptly restricted. No warning, no precedent. Her father stood frozen, as if struck by lightning; her mother sighed. Whispers among the servants swelled like dissonant chords, draining the room of joy.
Bai Changming shivered in his manor, chilled by Liuzhou's relentless winter snows. Xue Rong shivered too, but from the chill of human hearts.
Some rejoiced; others despaired. Snowflakes swallowed the world.
*When spring's blooms fade in the mortal realm, temple peaches begin to blossom.*
Shui Qian hummed as she trudged through snow, two jars of plum wine in hand. Her cheeks flushed with each sip. Villagers from her last stop had gifted her ample supplies—enough for a simple life.
With a flick of magic, she felled a crimson tree. More spells split the trunk into beams. By dusk, a sturdy cabin stood. As night fell, she cooked stew, clay insects buzzing nearby. Distant temple bells tolled while she watched the sunset.
Once, she believed herself fate's plaything. Now, she saw no "fate"—only choices and their consequences. She no longer feared the minor spirits begging food, nor fretted over their tricks. Save for a lingering wound oozing dark energy, peace had settled in her bones.
She carved wooden bowls, smiling at rustling sounds behind her. Placing them by the pot, she sat back. A cat-like yokai emerged, trembling as it ladled stew before vanishing. Others followed until the pot lay nearly empty. A squirrel darted out, scrubbing the pot with a rag.
"Thought you'd poison me, eh?" Shui Qian laughed.
The squirrel gestured: *Possible. But food good.*
"Little one," she asked casually, "where might one find a white magnolia hairpin?"
The squirrel paused, paws fidgeting. *Lady boss. Powerful. Jewels. White jade. Pretty flowers.*
Having rarely met proper exorcists, Shui Qian now spoke more with yokai. "Where is she?"
*Dangerous. Far. Teleports. Liuzhou City. Qiannian Pavilion.*
"Liuzhou… I've heard it's bustling. You mean the pavilion appears through magic?"
The squirrel nodded emphatically. *Truth. Boss strong.*
"Is she human?"
*Unknown. You lose. Careful.* With a wave, it scampered off.