To never forget her, each time he was on the verge of forgetting, he would tear off a dragon scale, using the pain to etch her name into his bones.

How long he could persist, he did not know.

Qingying sat by the tree stump, picking up the piece of bark that had been cut away. Her gaze rested quietly on the two characters “Yingying” carved upon it.

Could there truly be genuine affection in this world?

…

Seas change into mulberry fields, and the world shifts with time.

Yet a century later, Yaoshui Town seemed unchanged.

Stone bridges paved with bluish slabs, flowing water, and households along the banks.

The Fate-Binding Tree by the riverbank flourished with lush greenery, its red strings and wish plaques swaying gently in the breeze, clinking together with crisp, tinkling sounds.

A fine drizzle fell, blurring everything in sight into a hazy, indistinct mist.

Xie Lingyu lifted his gaze. On the stone bridge he had crossed countless times, there now stood an unfamiliar figure.

The person held a bamboo-paper umbrella, standing quietly by the bridge’s edge, their form mostly concealed. Children just out of school ran past behind her, laughing and playing.

He walked over slowly, his footsteps light and soft.

He stopped just a step away from her.

The person seemed to sense his presence and slowly turned around. As the umbrella shifted aside, a glimpse of white was revealed.

Though her hair was styled in a maiden’s bun, it was entirely silver.

Along with it appeared an aged face, gentle in expression, with traces of the beauty she once possessed in her youth.

The elderly woman looked at him, a faint confusion in her eyes.

“Who are you?”

“…”

Xie Lingyu simply watched her quietly, unmoving.

Under the unwavering gaze of those pitch-black eyes, the old woman blinked gently and asked again, “You look somewhat familiar, young master. Have I met you somewhere before?”

The rain grew heavier as the two stood there on the stone bridge.

Everything around them blurred, as if this small space held only the two of them.

“Young master, why do you keep staring at me?”

After a long moment of eye contact, it was the old woman who finally looked away first. She twirled the umbrella handle and asked.

A long while passed, yet no answer came.

Slowly, she shifted her gaze back, only to find him still watching her, his dark eyes deep and unreadable through the curtain of rain.

After waiting a little longer, she couldn’t help but raise her hand and wave it before his eyes. “Are you all right?”

Still no response.

Sang Ying could finally hold back no longer. She removed the Illusion Form Talisman, reverting to her youthful appearance, and cupped his face in her hands. “Xie Lingyu, have I scared you senseless?”

“You’re even worse than before—you couldn’t even see through my Illusion Form Talisman—”

Her wrist was seized and pulled forcefully.

Caught off guard, Sang Ying stumbled into his embrace, momentarily stunned.

The paper umbrella in her hand fell onto the bridge, splashing water. In the puddle below, the reflection of the young man holding her tightly shimmered.

The pendant at his collarbone felt almost scalding, their heartbeats pressed together, thumping loudly.

With his head buried in her shoulder, Sang Ying felt something warm trickle down her neck, mingling with the cold rainwater.

As if having regained something lost, his arms tightened around her, stubbornly refusing to loosen even a little, until Sang Ying could barely breathe.

The next moment, a soft voice fell beside her ear.

“Found you, junior sister.”