The tattered scroll still preserves the scene of the past.

As dawn broke, the sunlight streamed through the carved wooden windows into the study, casting dappled shadows on the bluestone floor. Mo Xiaoyu carefully wiped the mahogany bookshelf with a plain-colored cloth. This was her first real step into Xie Yunzhi's world—a mortal realm filled with the fragrance of ink and the atmosphere of books.

As her fingertips traced the spines of the books, she unconsciously softened her movements. The books were worn from repeated reading, some pages tucked with carefully crafted bamboo slips bearing his elegant annotations. She imagined him sitting by the window, reading, his eyes lowered, his expression focused, just as he had a thousand years ago when he was reviewing the Book of Fate in the temple.

Back then, she would always lie by the Jade Pool, secretly counting the number of times his eyelashes fluttered. But now, she was to tidy up this study, filled with his presence, as a stranger.

"Miss Mo, you don't need to go through such hardship."

A clear, gentle voice sounded from behind her. She hurriedly turned around and saw Xie Yunzhi standing at the door, holding two cups of tea. The morning light cast a soft glow on him, and his upright figure was even more striking against his sturdy blue robe.

"It's my duty." She lowered her head and took the teacup, her fingertips inadvertently brushing against his. A familiar shiver ran down her spine, almost making her drop the teacup.

A thousand years ago, these same hands would faithfully reach into the Jade Pool every day, bringing her pure divine power. Back then, she would always swim over happily, affectionately nuzzling his fingertips. Now, these same hands hold a cup of coarse tea from the mortal world, offering her, a "stranger," the most ordinary kindness.

He walked to the rosewood desk, spread out the Xuan paper, picked up an ancient inkstone, and slowly and methodically ground the ink. Sunlight cast dappled shadows on his long eyelashes, and his ink-grinding movements were elegant and composed. At that moment, he resembled a deity who held sway over destiny in a temple, captivating Mo Xiaoyu.

"Does the young master intend to paint today?" She forced herself to look away and asked softly.

"Hmm." He nodded, picked up the wolf-hair brush, and let the tip glide across the rice paper. "Strangely enough, I've been dreaming about a place lately, shrouded in mist and with shimmering water, and I want to paint it."

Mo Xiaoyu stood by, tending to the brush and ink, her gaze unconsciously following the tip of the brush. As the outline of the painting gradually became clearer, her breath caught in her throat.

The misty Jade Pool, the shimmering waves, the lush immortal herbs along the banks, even the crooked banyan tree by the pool—it was all exactly the same. It was the place where she had lived for a thousand years, and every detail was etched in her memory.

He paused, then added a black carp to the edge of the pond, leaping out of the water, its tail fin swaying and kicking up strings of water droplets, its graceful posture so lively that it seemed as if it would swim out of the paper at any moment.

"I have a feeling..." He frowned slightly, his voice tinged with confusion, "There should be a fish like this in this pond, black in color, that always loves to chase after the light spots."

Clang—

The pine soot ink stick in Mo Xiaoyu's hand fell to the ground, the fine ink stick instantly breaking into two pieces. The splashed ink stained her moon-white skirt and also spread a glaring black stain on his almost completed painting.

"I'm sorry! Young master, I..." She hurriedly squatted down, not bothering to wipe her clothes, and hurriedly used her sleeve to wipe the ink spots on the painting, her voice filled with suppressed sobs.

Why the Jade Pool of Destiny? Why that black carp of all? The more lifelike his painting, the more her heart ached. Those deeply buried memories surged forth like a tide, almost drowning her.

He put down his pen, but instead of blaming her, he knelt down to her eye level: "It's just a painting, you can just paint it again if it gets dirty. But you..." His gaze fell on her slightly trembling hands, and his tone was gentle, "Are your hands hurt?"

This gentle concern reminded her of a thousand years ago when she accidentally knocked over the astrolabe. He had done the same thing then, first checking if she was hurt before cleaning up the mess. But back then, his eyes held indulgence, while now they only held the polite concern one would show to a stranger.

"I'm fine." She hurriedly hid her hands behind her back, as if afraid he would see the turbulent waves churning within her heart. Her fingertips dug deeply into her palms, using the pain to force herself to stay awake.

He stood up, casually rolled up the stained painting, and said indifferently, "It's fine if this painting is ruined. It was just a dream, ephemeral and unreal, not worth regretting."

Just then, a clear and melodious voice came from outside the door: "Is Young Master Xie here?"

Lin Wan'er, the daughter of the garrison commander, stood in the courtyard carrying an exquisite food box. She wore a pale yellow dress with fluttering butterflies embroidered on the hem, and her bright and charming appearance was like that of a forsythia in early spring. Her gaze swept over Mo Xiaoyu with a hint of scrutiny, but when it finally landed on Xie Yunzhi, it turned into a gentle smile.

"Young Master Xie, my father recently acquired some fine Huizhou ink. Knowing your refined taste in calligraphy and painting, he specially asked me to deliver some."

"Thank you for your trouble, Miss Lin." Xie Yunzhi accepted the food box, her tone polite but distant.

Lin Wan'er's gaze fell on the desk, and she asked curiously, "Was the young master painting just now? May I take a look?"

Xie Yunzhi paused for a moment, then handed over the stained painting of Yaochi: "It was just a quick scribble, and it even got stained with ink. I hope Miss Lin will forgive my poor attempt to doodle."

Lin Wan'er unfurled the painting, her eyes flashing with amazement: "What a beautiful pond! The fish are so lively and adorable; your painting skills are becoming increasingly exquisite, young master." Her fingertips gently traced the black carp in the painting, praising, "These fish are painted so well, it seems they're about to swim out at any moment."

She looked up, her smile radiant: "Since this painting is stained with ink, why not give it to Wan'er? I really like it; it would be wonderful to have it framed when we get back."

Mo Xiaoyu's heart clenched. That was their Jade Pool, a testament to their thousand-year companionship, every stroke of which held her most precious memories. How could he... how could he so easily give it away to someone else?

"Since Miss Lin likes it, please take it." Xie Yunzhi's voice was calm and unwavering, as if he were giving away nothing more than a piece of waste paper.

Lin Wan'er happily put away the painting, exchanged a few more pleasantries with him, and then reluctantly left. Before leaving, she gave Mo Xiaoyu a special look, her eyes carrying a subtle warning.

The study returned to silence, with only the occasional birdsong coming from outside the window.

Mo Xiaoyu stared blankly at the empty desk, where the outline of Yaochi seemed to still linger. She remembered that a thousand years ago, she had only rubbed a little bit of cinnabar off the Book of Fate, and he had carefully covered it up for her, never uttering a single word of blame.

Now, he casually gave away the painting that held their shared memories to someone else. That woman will hang their Jade Pool in her boudoir, admiring it every day, but she will never know what kind of unforgettable past lies behind that painting.

"Miss Mo?" Xie Yunzhi's voice snapped her out of her reverie. "Are you feeling unwell? You look pale."

She looked up at the gentle, refined scholar before her. His eyes were clear and bright, filled with genuine concern, but he was no longer the god who only showed tenderness to her. What separated them was not only lost memories, but also the distance between god and mortal.

"I'm fine." She lowered her eyes, her voice so soft it seemed it might break in the wind at any moment, "It's just... I remembered some things from the past."

Some memories are etched in her memory alone. Some are recollections of their thousand-year companionship by the Jade Pool. Some are stories of him shielding her from calamity and sacrificing his soul for her.

Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a long shadow over her. She stood at the boundary between light and shadow, as if on the edge of two worlds—on one side was her, possessing all her memories, and on the other, him, who had forgotten the past.

And that chasm that lies between them is called reincarnation.

She quietly touched the jade pendant in her bosom; its faint warmth was her only solace. At least, a wisp of his spirit remained. At least, she still had a chance to make amends.

But seeing him casually give away those precious memories still made her heart tremble with pain. This long road to atonement had only just begun, yet it had already brought her immense bitterness.