In Xingyun Palace, time drifted past in silence, measured only by the slow blooming of constellations overhead.
Xiao Zhu awoke each morning in a world not her own, but one that welcomed her all the same.
The starlit ceilings would slowly fade into a soft, silvery glow resembling dawn, even though the sun never truly rose in Xingyao's domain. She would open her eyes to a circle of gentle gazes and fluttering wings, a soft chorus of chirps and hums greeting her like a private orchestra.
The spirit beasts, though born of constellations and spirit qi, had taken a surprising liking to her.
Xingluo, the golden spirit finch, rarely left her shoulder now.
Yuebao, the moon fox, followed her like a shadow, curling around her ankles wherever she went.
Liuying, the smallest of the luminous dragons, with translucent wings and a mischievous glint in his eye, liked to dangle from her sleeves and steal her hair ribbons.
Mingxiu, the galaxy-shelled snail, often perched on her desk while she practiced her calligraphy, slowly blinking as if in solemn judgment.
And the Shuanghua butterflies, two violet-winged sprites, floated endlessly around her whenever she hummed, leaving trails of sparkling dust like tiny falling stars.
Xiao Zhu named each of them carefully, and as if recognizing their own names for the first time, they responded more eagerly than before.
She would feed them sweet petals and fruit slices, giggling whenever one tumbled into her palm.
Even Xingyao, quiet and detached as he was, seemed to linger more often.
Sometimes he sat in the shade of his silver-laced pavilion, book in hand but gaze not on the page. Sometimes she asked him curious, innocent questions:
"Why are the stars shaped differently here than in the mortal realm?"
"Do spirit beasts remember dreams?"
"Will I ever grow tall like you?"
Xingyao, half amused and half puzzled by her unfiltered wonder, answered each one.
He found, to his own quiet surprise, that he didn't mind her presence.
Not even when she talked too much.
Not even when she fell asleep curled up with Yuebao across the marble floor.
She brought a kind of quiet warmth—not blazing, not loud, but slow and spreading, like light soaking into frozen ground.
____
Back at Ling Yuan Palace, a figure lingered where she should not have been.
Cloaked in petals and faint illusion spells, the Peony Fairy had been sent by Goddess Yunhua.
For days, she circled the barrier surrounding Qinghui Courtyard, hoping to glimpse this so-called disciple of Mo Chen. But the barriers were absolute. She could not see within, nor cross the boundary without triggering alarm.
So she watched. And waited. Someone would come or go. Certain she'd catch something useful.
The Peony Fairy, hiding near the back of the palace among silver-leafed trees, had not expected Mo Chen's return.
When the cold wind dropped, freezing her illusions in place, she barely had time to flee.
"Show yourself," came Mo Chen's voice — quiet, yet seething.
Within moments, she was rooted to the spot, vines of frost curling up around her ankles.
Her resistance was brief.
In the face of three high immortals and Mo Chen's terrifying gaze, she confessed everything.
That she was sent by Goddess Yunhua. That she was ordered to observe, to find out who this disciple was, and if she truly existed.
Yanxia scoffed, furious. "So that woman is behind this. Did she kidnap Xiao Zhu?"
Qingfeng let out a low whistle and shook his head. "There are easier ways to die than spying on Mo Chen, you know."
Wenlan frowned. "This is not just idle jealousy anymore. We will go with you to get Xiao Zhu back."
Mo Chen turned without a word and stepped into the sky.
He was heading for Wanhua Palace.
Within the eternal bloom of Wanhua Palace, petals danced in the air like falling wishes.
Goddess Yunhua sat in her pavilion of carved rosewood and jade, sipping peach-blossom wine beneath flowering trees that never shed a single petal without her permission.
When the disturbance stirred the air — when a burst of a familiar spiritual energy tore through the sky like a crack of thunder — her hand froze mid-pour.
A ripple of disbelief passed through her.
He's coming here? Mo Chen... to my palace? But why? He never—
Before she could rise, the tremble of the petals intensified.
And then he arrived.
Mo Chen, cold and imposing, stormed through the main hall of Wanhua Palace like an avalanche crashing through a garden. Wind howled in his wake, scattering Yunhua's prized blossoms into a storm of color.
Behind him followed Wenlan, serene as ever, Yanxia, already glowing with heat, and Qingfeng, sleeves fluttering like ribbons in a breeze.
The flower fairies barely had time to curtsy. Some gasped. Others shrank back.
Yunhua stood, stunned.
She looked at Mo Chen — truly looked — and her heart gave a quiet twist.
His face was as emotionless as ever, carved from divine frost… but his eyes— they burned.
He's angry, she thought. He's never looked at me like this before…
She quickly composed herself, slipping into the mask she wore so easily — the soft-spoken beauty who never asked for anything.
Her lips curved gently. Her voice, laced with honey.
"Mo Chen… why have you come?"
"How was the mission? Are you hurt anywhere?"
As if the others did not exist, she stepped forward with a warm, welcoming expression.
And then — reaching out — she made to touch the sleeve of his robe.
But before her fingers could graze the silk, Mo Chen took a sharp step back.
The rejection was immediate. Cold. Absolute.
Yunhua's fingers trembled slightly before she lowered them, her gaze shimmering with disbelief and humiliation.
Tears welled in her eyes — soft, beautiful, weaponized. Enough to soften any heart that gazed upon her.
"…Mo Chen?" she asked, voice trembling.
But his words cut through the perfumed air like a sword of frost.
"You have something of mine," he said.
"Return her."
Her breath hitched.
"…Who?" she whispered.
"Mo Chen, what are you talking about? I don't understand…" she added aggrievedly, her voice breaking in just the right places.
But Yanxia had had enough.
She stepped forward, arms crossed, flame licking faintly at her fingertips.
"Don't act innocent. Where's Xiao Zhu?"
Yunhua turned sharply to her, hurt flashing in her expression like lightning through silk.
"Me? You think I would steal a little girl? Have I fallen so low in your eyes, Yanxia?"
"You've done worse for less," Yanxia snapped. "If you're not behind it, prove it. Where is she?"
Wenlan said, calmly, "One of your fairies was caught spying. We know."
Yunhua's brows knit, just enough to feign confusion.
"My fairy?" she said softly. "You must be mistaken. I never gave such an order…"
"You're lying," Mo Chen said flatly.
His voice was still low, but the floor beneath him was beginning to crack with frost.
Even the air in the pavilion, usually warm and heavy with floral scent, began to chill.
Yunhua's lips trembled.
"…I only asked her to find out if the rumors were true. About the disciple. I didn't— I didn't take her."
"Then where is she?" Mo Chen's eyes narrowed, like blades of ice.
"I don't know!" Yunhua said, the frustration slipping past her mask. "I don't know where she is!"
Her voice cracked, and for once, it sounded real.
Mo Chen stepped closer, each footfall echoing across the marble like thunder.
"She's gone," he said, low and lethal. "And she was last seen under the watch of people I trusted."
"And now," he added coldly, "I have no patience for liars."
Qingfeng, ever casual, stepped in like a breeze slipping between blades.
"Alright, let's not freeze the whole palace," he said lazily.
"She doesn't have the girl. But she was watching. That much is true."
He glanced at Yunhua, "You've always been good at watching from the shadows, haven't you?"
Yunhua said nothing.
Her tears fell like glistening pearls, trailing silently down her cheeks.
"…Mo Chen," she whispered, voice soft and aggrieved — a picture of fragile beauty.
"Is that why you're here?"
Her eyes, bright with heartbreak, searched his face.
"Why won't you ever look at me? I have loved you… for thousands of years."
Her voice trembled again, the last threads of her composure unraveling.
"…But you've changed."
A long silence followed — heavy, absolute.
Even the wind stopped moving.
Mo Chen stared at her for a beat — then turned away.
Wenlan placed a gentle hand on Yanxia's shoulder before she could say anything more.
"I'll find her myself," Mo Chen said. "If she's not here… then I'll search the realms."
He vanished into the air with a rush of frost.
The others followed after.
Leaving behind only falling petals — and a goddess who once believed herself the most beloved in heaven, now standing alone in a palace that never stops blooming, smiling softly through tears no one stayed to wipe.