Just like the little fox who accidentally crushed a seed of a Spirit Heart Fruit.

Who could have imagined that three hundred years later, the place that should have been growing Spirit Heart Fruit would instead be covered with a vine that could bewitch the mind?

Those things you feel sorry for or regret—like the pair of kneeling white iron statues in front of Yue Fei's tomb, which have been exposed to the cold wind for eight hundred years.

But it made people remember the weight of "serving the country with utmost loyalty".

For example, the hole in Du Fu's thatched hut that couldn't keep out the wind and rain leaked in not only rainwater, but also his compassion for the common people.

For example, the sorrow of "things are no longer the same, people are no longer the same" in Li Qingzhao's writings not only contains personal joys and sorrows, but also the vicissitudes of an era.

These are all obstacles that push life forward. Just like people have to stumble and fall a few times to grow up. Only after it hurts do they learn how to walk and how to avoid potholes.

The same is true of times; those regrets are scars, but also lessons, etched in history to remind future generations not to repeat the same mistakes.

If things really get out of hand, even the current breeze of freedom might not be able to blow steadily anymore.

Imagine if time and space were disrupted, the place we are standing here now might not be the void in the twilight, but a battlefield engulfed in war, or a desolate wasteland ravaged by floods.

Not to mention accompanying you to Jiangnan to find Su Jinyun's reincarnation, watching her read poetry by the window in Suzhou, and seeing the jasmine in full bloom on her desk.

She raised her hand and patted Qin Qianluo's shoulder, the force neither too light nor too heavy. The warmth of her palm passed through the white fabric of her clothes, as if reminding her, or as if comforting her.

The fox's eyes gleamed with the wisdom of someone who's been there, and even the beauty mark at the corner of its eye seemed to brighten. Its tone softened, as if it were whispering something.

"We are spectators, not writers who revise the script."

Think about it, when the opera troupe goes on stage and the gongs and drums start, all the actors, from male to female, from painted-face to clown, have to follow the script.

If you're going to sing "Outside the long pavilion, by the ancient road," you can't sing "The setting sun sinks in the west, a heartbroken traveler is at the ends of the earth."

When it's time to cry, you should wipe away your tears; when it's time to laugh, you should raise the corners of your mouth.

When it's time to leave the stage, even if the audience shouts "one more time!", you still have to take your bow and leave.

Even the best play must be performed according to the script; otherwise, the lines or plot will be altered.

For example, letting Liang Shanbo know in advance that Zhu Yingtai is a woman, and preventing Xu Xian from drinking that bowl of realgar wine.

The drums and gongs went off in a mess, and the erhu couldn't keep up with the rhythm either. How could the opera troupe continue performing?

The audience members below the stage either found it boring or were about to start cursing.

Those people in history also have their own destiny; the storms they are meant to weather, the consequences they are meant to bear, and the traces they are meant to leave behind are all predetermined.

Just like characters in a play, each has their own role.

Let's just watch and keep those regrets in our hearts and those touching moments in our eyes. Let's not disturb their cause and effect, nor disrupt the order of this world.

After all, isn't the most touching thing in this world the sight of someone carrying regrets yet still moving forward?

Hearing Xin Ziming's unusually serious words, Qin Qianlu nodded obediently, her eyes curving slightly at the corners.

When her long eyelashes droop down, they resemble two small fans, gently concealing the nonchalant smile in her eyes—a smile that hides a hint of cunning, like a child harboring a little secret.

Her fingertips subtly twirled the hem of her plain-colored dress, and even the curve of her clothes swaying in the wind conveyed a sense of carefree nonchalance, as if she hadn't listened.

She knew perfectly well that this dear friend, who had lived for a thousand years, was even more gentle than herself. Although he scolded her fiercely, he was the one who protected her the most in his heart.

Previously, when Heaven punished her with the Ninefold Thunder Tribulation, she was prepared to endure excruciating pain, but then she saw Xin Ziming take out her protective jade from her sleeve.

That jade was her token, capable of blocking the power of the Heavenly Dao. At the time, she cursed as she pressed the jade hard against her heart.

However, he was hit by the aftershocks of the lightning tribulation, and several tufts of hair behind his ears were singed.

They accidentally stumbled upon the territory of an old locust tree that had been cultivating for three hundred years. The tree demon, whose branches had been cut by a woodcutter, would pester anyone who came across it.

When she was bound by vines and unable to move, Xin Zimo waved her nine fox tails, the tips of which gleamed with gold.

While cursing and swearing, "I told you not to wander into the forest, but you wouldn't listen," he forcefully shattered the tree demon's century-old cultivation.

Afterwards, he had to transform into an old Taoist priest, leave the tree spirit a healing fruit, and coax it, "Don't bother people so casually next time."

Even the last time she saw a little beggar crying from hunger by the river, she couldn't help but take out a piece of silver from her sleeve and hand it to him.

The silver coin carried a touch of divine magic, which startled the local earth god. The earth god rushed over and questioned, "Who is abusing their magic in the mortal realm?"

Xin Ziming spoke up before her, patting her chest and saying, "It's my little fairy who's just entered the mortal realm and doesn't know the rules. Consider this silver as an apology to the Earth God for buying you a pot of wine."

That's how they managed to suppress the matter.