Standing before the towering stele, I suddenly felt dizzy, as if time and space were shifting. My vision blurred, and a bittersweet ache gripped my heart. Unconsciously raising my hand, I touched a face filled with sorrow. Brow furrowed, I gently wiped it away and looked up to see Ye Jinglan’s phoenix-like eyes half-closed, his head bowed in deep thought, his expression distant.

I slowly approached two luminous pearls at the base of the stele, glowing with seven colors. On a white jade table lay an unfinished chessboard. The gridlines crisscrossed, black and white stones entangled in fierce combat, clusters of qi forming intricate patterns. The four corners of the board had already been decided, leaving only the central Tian Yuan position unresolved. After careful calculation, I realized both sides held equal numbers of stones, leaving just one decisive move. Black would go first, followed by white—it all depended on where the final white stone landed. Reaching into the chess box, I picked up a white jade piece, tapped it against my chin, and pondered silently for a moment. Lowering my gaze, I noticed a shadow standing beside me. Looking up to meet their eyes, a sudden flash of inspiration struck me. Smiling faintly, I gently placed the white stone within the dense formation of black pieces. His eyebrows lifted slightly, his eyes brimming with surprise.

This was called placing oneself in a desperate situation to find a way out. Smiling, I removed the lifeless black stones one by one. Suddenly, a thunderous boom shook the ground beneath us, reverberating through my chest. Ye Jinglan tensed his body, standing protectively in front of me as he steadied himself. Peering ahead, we saw a crescent-shaped stone door appear directly in front of us. Exchanging a glance, we cautiously stepped forward. The quiet cave echoed with our alternating footsteps, synchronized yet distinct. Holding my breath, I could almost hear the rapid beating of my heart. Following closely behind him, I crossed the threshold of the stone door.

The willow-lined pond carried a faint breeze, the tranquil scene bathed in the soft glow of the evening moon.

Artificially carved rocks stood gracefully, grassy banks spread like carpets, pavilions were exquisitely crafted, and flowers bloomed profusely. Stunned, I walked across the seven-arch bridge and passed through the waterside corridors. Everything around me was meticulously crafted—emeralds and pearls transformed into lush trees and delicate blossoms, creating an underground garden. Following Ye Jinglan, we moved through intricately carved pavilions and water-side gazebos until we arrived at a small, elegant building. A light gauze curtain fluttered, carrying a faint fragrance. Pushing the door open, a scroll painting came into view.

The inked landscape grew fainter, but the beauty within the painting seemed more ethereal. She wore the braids of an unmarried maiden, her delicate fingers holding a single white chess piece. Her almond-shaped eyes glanced lightly, her lively gaze shifting. Her features were as delicate as pear blossoms, her figure graceful as a willow tree. Though not overwhelmingly beautiful, she possessed an enchanting charm.

“Clouds drift amidst the autumn night’s chill; vast skies echo with frost-laden orchids.” Ye Jinglan softly recited the poem inscribed on the scroll. “The moon sleeps eternally, stars dim; clear skies are heavy with sorrow, this heart sighs endlessly.”

In a subdued tone, he continued:

“Regret comes too late; all is forsaken, awaiting reunion in the next life.”

Raising my head, I held my breath, gently pushing aside the gauze curtain to step into the inner chamber. Where there should have been an embroidered bed stood instead a massive redwood coffin. Swallowing hard, I took a step closer. Resting atop the coffin was a delicately carved green jade dragon seal. Picking it up carefully and turning it over, my eyes widened slightly: “By the Mandate of Heaven, may it endure forever and prosper.”

The Imperial Seal of Divine Kun Continent?! Wasn’t it mysteriously lost during the reign of the Sage Emperor? How did it end up here? Cradling this unparalleled treasure, I stood momentarily stunned. A yellow silk cloth drifted down from the coffin. Bending down, I gently picked it up. Written on the right side of the fabric in crimson calligraphy were three characters: Letter to My Wife .

Just as I was about to read further, a faint muffled sound came from outside the curtain. Placing the seal down, I tucked the silk into my sleeve and hurried out. Ye Jinglan sat at a round table, pressing his forehead, brows furrowed deeply.

“Xiu Yuan,” I crouched down, looking at him with concern. “What’s wrong?”

He relaxed his brow, his phoenix eyes calm. “It’s nothing.”

Borrowing the light of the luminous pearls in the room, I examined him closely. A faint blush colored his stern face. Ignoring propriety, I reached out and touched his forehead—it was burning hot! It must have been due to the untreated wound combined with expending too much internal energy on me, causing fatigue and inflammation.

My voice was soft but resolute: “Xiu Yuan, you need to rest properly.”

He straightened his back slightly. “It’s fine. First, we need to find an exit.” As he attempted to rise, I blocked his path, staring intensely into his eyes. “This place is quite secluded. We’re not in immediate danger. Rest for a while before searching for a way out. After all, your health is most important.” I tilted my head, meeting his gaze directly, conveying my determination through my eyes.

Ye Jinglan fell silent for a moment, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Alright.”

“Mm.” I exhaled softly, relieved. Once I saw him settle into a corner to meditate and rest, I left the building. Passing by a waterside pavilion, I picked up a crystal goblet and hurried out of the tomb, arriving beneath the stalactites. Placing the goblet under a stone column, I let clear droplets of water fill it.

“Ding... Ding...” The sound of water striking the crystal echoed melodiously. Leaning against a jagged rock, I pulled out the yellow silk from my sleeve and, under the faint light, read it carefully.

After what felt like an eternity, I finished reading the Letter to My Wife . Sighing deeply, I was overcome with emotion.

According to ancient legend, one day the Nine Heavens Holy Mother came to bathe in the Hidden Immortal Pool atop Kunlun Mountain. While unpinning her hair, a phoenix butterfly hairpin fell to the ground, rolled down the sacred mountain, and descended into the mortal realm, forming this Divine Kun Continent. Because the hairpin was shaped like a butterfly, the land took on a butterfly-like form—high in the center and flat on the sides. The subtle veins within the butterfly’s body became rivers, the tips of its wings transformed into two narrow peninsulas, and its heart became an unparalleled piece of jade.

A thousand years ago, when the continent was first unified, Emperor Xiao Zhan of the founding dynasty commissioned master craftsman Liu Ti to carve the divine jade into the Imperial Seal. Regardless of how dynasties changed, the seal was always passed down, eventually becoming one of the conditions for unifying the world.

Later, the continent was engulfed in bloodshed and turmoil, each dynasty short-lived, with rulership rarely passing beyond three generations. This continued until five hundred years ago, when Feng Qingyu, the third emperor of the Zhen Dynasty, ascended the throne. He quelled rebellions, allowed the land to recover, rebuilt cities, and brought peace to the realm. Known as the Sage Emperor, his reign marked a golden age. Yet, the Imperial Seal mysteriously disappeared during his rule, becoming the sole stain on his otherwise illustrious legacy.

During my ten years living in the secluded valley of Wangshan, I spent my idle time reading various books. Historical records state that the Sage Emperor disliked women and was extremely diligent. Later, some gossips fabricated tales claiming he preferred male companionship. Only after reading this Letter to My Wife did I understand the truth. It turned out the Sage Emperor was deeply devoted, enduring immense pain early in his reign by sending the woman he loved most, Shui Mianyue, to the vassal king Chu Tianliu. Despite overcoming countless trials, they were never able to be together. By the time he quelled the rebellion led by the vassal king, she had already passed away. Defying his ministers’ objections, he held a grand coronation ceremony with her spirit tablet, posthumously crowning her empress. He then buried her—the only empress he ever had—beneath Meng Lake, interring the Imperial Seal with her. Alone for the rest of his life, he passed away prematurely.

Carefully rolling up the Sage Emperor’s handwritten Letter to My Wife , I picked up the now-full goblet and hurried back into the Sleeping Moon Dreamland . Approaching the pond, I tore off a piece of my clothing and dipped it into the water. Suddenly, I heard a series of bubbling sounds. Looking closely, I saw bubbles rising from the center of the pond. It appeared to be a flowing spring—our salvation. Jumping up, I raced back toward the building.

Stepping quietly into the room, I found Ye Jinglan sitting cross-legged, his expression serene. Slowly crouching down, I watched as his phoenix eyes opened lazily, tinged with exhaustion. I handed him the crystal goblet, smiling faintly. His features softened slightly as he nodded and accepted it.

“I’ve found the exit,” I said softly. At this, he stared at me in surprise. “But your wound hasn’t healed completely—you can’t get it wet. Wait until your fever subsides before we leave.” I reassured him gently, “You come from a family of healers—you should understand your condition better than I do.”

He contemplated for a moment before nodding. “When I had a fever as a child, my master would use a cold towel to bring down my temperature.” Folding the cloth into a square, I placed it in his palm. “Wipe yourself down.”

Ye Jinglan’s gaze lingered on me, unwavering. Rising to his feet, he smiled faintly. “Rest well. I’ll go look around some more.”

With that, he turned to leave. Just as he reached the doorway, a clear, cool voice called out behind him: “Don’t exert your energy.”

Leaning against the doorframe, I smiled back. “Mm.”

As I walked along, I reflected deeply. The Sage Emperor’s love was profound and unforgettable. I wondered what Shui Mianyue must have felt, or what Chu Tianliu’s true intentions were. Sitting in the waterside pavilion, leaning against the railing, I gazed at the surrounding garden scenery.

Butterflies cannot cross the vast sea; love cannot triumph over fate.

Sighing silently, I took out the scroll of Letter to My Wife once more, savoring its words. Every line brimmed with regret and bone-deep sorrow. Even emperors have feelings—but between love and the nation, which holds greater weight? Extending my arm past the railing, my fingertips brushed something delicate. Reaching out, I found it just out of reach. The thin yellow silk slipped from my grasp, floating softly onto the water’s surface. The crimson ink faded into a pool of blood-red, spreading gently across the ripples. Like a drowning beauty, the edges of the silk fluttered lightly, sinking slowly to the bottom of the pond.

Another sharp pain shot through me. Flipping open my left palm, I saw the red thread on my middle finger creeping inward like a vine, cunningly reaching my palm. Sī Sī Rù Kòu —a pain without bones. Gripping the railing tightly, I bit my lip and swallowed the cry of pain rising in my throat. Drenched in cold sweat, I collapsed onto the pavilion, exhausted, closing my eyes. Let me sleep for just a moment...

Gradually, my consciousness began to fade, as if I were sinking into the depths of the ocean. After what felt like an eternity, I suddenly heard a soft laugh. Opening my eyes, I found myself in a courtyard. Following the sound, I saw two figures sitting in a pavilion playing chess. The young maiden was refined and elegant, her eyes lively, resting her chin on her hands as she smiled at the contemplative young man before her. Her appearance bore a striking resemblance to the woman in the painting.

The man opposite her had a clear, handsome face, his brow exuding a hint of dominance. After a long moment of thought, his lips curved slightly, his gaze intense as he looked at the sprite-like woman before him. Gently placing a piece on the board, he spoke confidently: “We agreed—if I win, you’ll marry me.”

The maiden playfully fanned herself with a round fan, tilting her head and blinking mischievously. “Oh? So confident?” Lowering her gaze to the board, her expression shifted slightly, her beautiful eyes widening in surprise.

The man picked up his teacup, sipping lightly, his smile faint yet direct as he stared at the young woman.

Curiosity stirred within me, and I tiptoed closer to the pavilion. The maiden lowered her head, cupping her face in thought. I waved my hand in front of their eyes, but neither reacted. Had I wandered into someone else’s dream? Or had these two entered mine? Shaking my head lightly, I focused on the chessboard—it was the same unfinished game from the tomb. Could these two be the Sage Emperor and Shui Mianyue?

“Ziqian,” the maiden raised her head, her eyes crescent moons, “It seems you’ll have to wait a little longer.” With that, she moved a piece—it was the exact move I had made earlier.

The man narrowed his starry eyes, his expression tightening slightly. After a pause, he chuckled softly, his brows relaxing. “Mian’er, I still can’t defeat you. But—” he grabbed her hand firmly, his face resolute—”you are destined to be Empress Feng Qingyu.”

A gentle breeze swept through, and the surroundings shifted abruptly. In a bustling teahouse, a scholarly-looking youth fanned himself with a paper fan, his eyes clear, his smile warm. Standing among a group of scholars, she—Shui Mianyue—was unmistakable, though taller and a few years older. Her presence was transcendent.

“After debating for so long, you’re still just a poor scholar!” A burly warrior mocked, rolling up his sleeves and pointing at her. “For centuries, no dynasty has lasted beyond three generations because of scholars like you, fussing over trivial matters! You know nothing but two books, seeing only the smallest benefits!”

“Oh?” Shui Mianyue remained unfazed, her smile unwavering. “And how do you know my mind is narrow and my vision limited?”

“Then let me ask you,” the warrior sneered, “what is your greatest dream in life? Is it some golden house or a beauty beyond compare?”

Shui Mianyue bowed slightly. “My greatest dream in life,” she replied calmly, “is to fish.”

“Fishing? Hahaha!” Laughter erupted throughout the teahouse.

When their laughter subsided, Shui Mianyue spoke in a clear voice: “With a rainbow as my line and the moon as my hook, I shall catch a Kun fish that shakes heaven and earth!”

Her words left everyone speechless, staring at her with awe. There was no more sound.

A low laugh came from behind me. Turning around, I saw a handsome man resting his chin on his hand, a wine cup halfway raised. His narrow eyes were slightly upturned, gazing intensely at Shui Mianyue. He whispered something to an attendant beside him, who nodded while glancing at the smiling woman.

Just as I moved closer to listen carefully, the scene suddenly shifted. Golden-painted tiles surrounded us, red pillars towering high.

“I am willing to relinquish my military power,” said the handsome man from the teahouse, bowing respectfully in the grand hall of the imperial palace.

Feng Qingyu, seated on the throne, nodded slightly. “Prince Chu is wise and just; this fills me with great satisfaction. If you have any other requests, feel free to mention them, and I will do my best to accommodate.”

Prince Chu lifted his head, warmth flickering in his eyes. “I only ask for one woman.”

“Oh? Whose daughter?” Feng Qingyu leaned casually against the throne, smiling carelessly.

“The Left Chancellor’s daughter—Shui Mianyue.” Her name echoed through the hall, causing Feng Qingyu to rise abruptly.

The Sage Emperor clenched his jaw, narrowing his dragon-like eyes coldly as he stared down from his throne. Prince Chu met his gaze without fear, his beautiful face unwavering.

“Your Majesty!” An elderly official stepped forward from the assembly of courtiers. “This humble servant wishes to act as matchmaker for Prince Chu.”

Feng Qingyu’s expression turned stern. “This matter requires further deliberation.”

“Your Majesty!” Gasps of surprise rippled through the court.

“I said it requires further deliberation!” The Sage Emperor growled, sweeping out with a flourish of his sleeve.

The scene shifted again. Festive music filled the air, and bustling streets greeted my sight. A lavishly decorated carriage, accompanied by hundreds of people, paraded proudly into the distance. Chests brimmed with treasures, layers of silk piled high. Ten miles of crimson bridal attire stretched ahead, laden with wealth. As the carriage passed before my eyes, its curtains fluttered open. Shui Mianyue, now dressed in a married woman’s coiffure adorned with jade and pearl ornaments, wore lip rouge and painted brows. Her accidental glance seemed to meet mine directly—a pale face devoid of spirit, her despair piercing deeply into my heart.

Lowering my head with a sigh, I looked up once more. Everything had changed. A gentle southern breeze carried the scent of osmanthus flowers.

“Moon!” A low growl of discontent came from the room behind me. Stepping closer, I leaned on the window and took in the scene inside.

Prince Chu, his long hair loose, lounged half-reclined on the bed. He lifted Shui Mianyue’s chin with his hand, her lowered eyes meeting his own. “You are truly cold-blooded and unfeeling. Despite how well I have treated you these past three years, you have never smiled.” A flash of coldness crossed his eyes. “Are you still thinking of him?”

Shui Mianyue raised her head sorrowfully, her jet-black hair entwined with his.

Prince Chu got off the bed, wrapping himself in an embroidered robe, looking straight at her. “If the title of Empress is what you desire so much, then I shall grant it to you!” With that, he resolutely left.

Shui Mianyue lay on the bed, gazing up at the round moon in the sky. Two streams of tears slid silently down her cheeks.

A lump formed in my throat, my eyes stung with tears. When the mist cleared, I found myself atop a tall building. Dressed in full armor, Prince Chu gazed mournfully at the smoke-filled city below. Turning around, he smiled faintly at Shui Mianyue: “Moon, I have lost once again.”

“Yixuan.” Shui Mianyue looked at him sadly. “Why put yourself through this suffering?”

“Moon.” Prince Chu reached out, pulling her tightly into his arms, speaking tenderly. “In the next life, I promise you a world all your own.” With that, he pushed her away and plunged a sword into himself.

“No!” Shui Mianyue cried out in anguish, collapsing onto his body. She screamed hoarsely: “Yixuan! I don’t want the world! I don’t want it!”

“Mian’er~” A passionate call came from behind. I stepped aside, watching this untimely reunion quietly. Feng Qingyu, clad in his dragon robes, stood in the corridor, his eyes trembling with joy. “Mian’er, I’ve come to take you back.”

Shui Mianyue stared at him expressionlessly, then let out a bitter laugh after a moment. Turning to look at the lifeless Prince Chu on the floor, tears flowed freely: “It is I who wronged you.” With that, she picked up the sword from the ground and thrust it through herself.

“Mian’er!” The Sage Emperor rushed forward, catching the swaying Shui Mianyue. Tears streamed down his face. “Mian’er...”

Shui Mianyue looked at him with a faint smile, blood blossoming at the corner of her mouth: “Life... after life... forever... apart from you.”

“No!” The Sage Emperor let out a heart-wrenching cry, shaking the heavens and earth. “Mian’er!”

My chest felt heavy, my vision blurred. Suddenly, I felt as if I were falling like a swallow. Regaining balance with difficulty, I saw red spider lilies blooming around me, exuding an emotional aura. Standing afar, I gazed at the Bridge of Helplessness spanning the River of Forgetfulness. Helplessness, helplessness—once crossed, one forgets their past life. But I retained memories of my previous life. Could this be considered a strange encounter?

“Sigh, such karmic retribution,” murmured a white-clad ghostly official beside me.

“Indeed,” another black-clad ghost agreed. “That person, instead of being a content immortal, chose to stand here at the Bridge of Helplessness for five hundred years.”

Looking up, I saw a man in rich robes standing under the bridge, intently watching the queue of souls preparing to reincarnate. It was none other than the Sage Emperor Feng Qingyu. Who was he searching for? Was it Shui Mianyue?

“The other one is even crazier,” sneered the black-clad ghost. “For five hundred years, every time he reincarnated, he rebelled against fate, endlessly starting uprisings.”

Following his gaze, I saw a stubborn-looking man in red, his slender eyes moving subtly. It was… Prince Chu…

“For five hundred years, both heaven and earth have known no peace because of one woman,” the white-clad ghost continued idly.

“Indeed,” the black-clad ghost shook his head. “After her trial in the netherworld court, that woman pleaded with King Yama and was sent to another realm.”

So this was the true meaning behind Shui Mianyue’s vow—”Forever separated from you in every life.” Sighing, I attempted to leave but was stopped by the two ghosts.

“Trying to escape?” The white-clad ghost glared fiercely at me. “Hurry up and follow!”

Surprised, I pointed at myself: “Can you see me?”

The black-clad ghost raised an eyebrow, glancing at me. “Of course! Hurry up! Hurry up!”

“Sigh!” Crushed among the ghosts, unable to move, I shouted desperately over my shoulder, “But I am human!”

The ghosts glanced disdainfully at me. “Once upon a time, perhaps.”

“No! I am truly human!” I waved my hands, protesting loudly.

“Hmph!” The ghastly crowd cast a condescending glance at me. “Clearly someone who has just died recently.”

Utterly speechless, I sighed deeply. Looking up, I saw Prince Chu smirking faintly, the corners of his lips curling upwards.

The Sage Emperor at the bridgehead shot me a burning gaze. Politely nodding, I watched as he relaxed his brow and turned towards the Bridge of Helplessness.

Step by step, following the flow of souls, I ascended the bridge. Beneath my feet, the River of Forgetfulness surged, lined with layers of bright red spider lilies, vivid as blood. Suddenly, my heart tightened. Opening my palm, I saw the red thread on my middle finger—it was still there, Sī Sī Rù Kòu taking effect once more. Closing my eyes, I hugged myself tightly, biting my lips to endure the pain.

After what felt like an eternity, I slowly opened my eyes, gradually discerning the figure before me.

Ye Jinglan bent over, his phoenix-like eyes slightly tense. “Yun Qing.”

His soft call felt like a voice from another lifetime. So, I hadn’t completely forgotten the dream after all. Chuckling inwardly at my immersion in the story, I sat up halfway and nodded at him. “Xiu Yuan, I’m fine.” Looking closely, I noticed he was drenched, water droplets sliding down his long hair, casting a mysterious, hazy aura around him.

“You?” I asked, surprised.

He glanced at the pond nearby and spoke softly: “I went to scout earlier. This water connects to the outer lake, and there’s a cave at the bottom. We can pass through it to escape.”

Delighted, I smiled and nodded gently, then thought of his injury and couldn’t help asking, “What about your wound?”

“It’s fine,” he replied indifferently, handing me a fist-sized luminous pearl. “It’s dark underwater.”

Turning back to take one last look at the Sleeping Moon Dreamland , I took a deep breath, exchanged a glance with Ye Jinglan, and jumped into the pool.

Five hundred years of reminiscence—people still speak of that quiet maiden.

Childhood sweethearts, defying fate with profound love.

Pausing in thought, pausing in sorrow, suddenly flying away to another branch.

The debt owed to you, the promises broken to him—begin anew under tranquil clouds and a pale moon.

Ten miles of crimson bridal dress, a dream of yellow millet.