They even meticulously counted the sunrises and sunsets in different worlds: "In some places, the sun is pale purple, and when it sets, it looks like a bowl of chilled grape wine has been poured over it."
The wind carries a sweet fragrance that seeps into your collar and even the hem of your clothes. If you leave them out to dry in the yard, they'll smell wonderful all day long, and even butterflies will land on them!
Some moons are round, silvery balls; if you get close, you can see the glowing osmanthus tree on them, its branches drooping so low you can almost touch the petals.
It floats down and can be used as a small boat; sitting on it, you can drift into the clouds; you can even pluck a star to use as a pillow—it's soft and won't hurt your head, and you'll wake up with a smile on your face!
It tiptoed around on the table, its round body nearly knocking over a teacup. In its haste to pull back, its paw brushed against a osmanthus leaf.
The leaves were swept and swirled before falling into the empty teacup, making the green tea stains at the bottom of the cup look like a small lake.
The mechanical sound was full of elation, and even the half-worn silver bell around the neck swayed in a light melody, causing the osmanthus leaves on the table to tremble slightly.
Two petals landed on its snow-white down, like two tiny yellow flowers stuck on, making it look even more like a cloud that had been crumbled and warmed in the sun.
I listened quietly, but my fingertips unconsciously tightened their grip on the teacup. The coolness of the pale blue glaze seeped into my palm through my fingertips, and my knuckles quietly turned white.
He didn't even notice the mark left on his palm by the rim of the cup. If he really had the ability to travel through countless worlds, could he follow that light and gradually pry open the cracks between heaven and earth?
Through countless sunrises and sunsets, beneath millions of different starry skies, and in the scent of every wind, have you found the Regent?
I still don't believe she would disappear so easily.
Her annotations in "The Complete Treatise on Military Classics" still carry the scent of ink; the force of the final slanted hook seems to still linger on the paper, and even the ink blots reveal her characteristic crispness.
As if he were about to look up at me the next second, his fingertip tapping on the spear manual on the page, he raised an eyebrow and asked me, "Do you understand the technique for deflecting force in this 'Returning Spear' move?"
The warmth she left in my palm when she taught me how to hold the gun seemed to linger, and the calluses on my fingertips rubbing against the gun barrel were still clearly tactile.
Even when he taught me to "sink my shoulders and drop my elbows," the warm breath that fell behind my ears, carrying a hint of pine soot and ink, is still there.
I can even recall the ticklish feeling of her fingertips brushing against the back of my hand as she taught me how to adjust my posture.
And the way she whispered, "Heavier, draw your strength into your waist, don't float," the patience in her voice was so clear it was as if it were right next to my ear.
Even the way Haoyue occasionally shakes her head carries a hint of the helpless smile that appears when she hears me being spoiled and pleading, with the corners of her eyes curving into a faint smile.
Even that casual gentleness, even the slight sway of his earrings when he shakes his head, seems to have been learned from her.
Even when I sometimes see Haoyue dozing off by the tea canister, I can vaguely recall her sitting by the window helping me review memorials, the sunlight falling on her hair.
I had tried to subtly probe Haoyue before, taking advantage of her napping beside the tea canister, I would poke her downy fur with my fingertip and ask, "Where did the Regent go?"
While it was playing with the osmanthus leaves, I handed it a piece of candied fruit and asked, "Can you find her?"
But it either stammered and walked away, clawing at the edge of the table and pretending to be deaf, scattering osmanthus leaves all over the floor, and even deliberately making its silver bells ring loudly, trying to drown out my words.
Either the mechanical voice pauses for two seconds, then abruptly utters, "Insufficient permissions, unable to answer."
Its ears drooped down its back, its downy fur looked dejected, and it didn't even have the strength to pick leaves. It just rested its chin on the edge of the table and stared blankly.
He even forgot to pick up the candied fruit on the table, letting ants crawl over the edge of it.
It seems the system administration had anticipated its naive nature and inability to keep secrets, and had placed many locks in its program.
Even mentioning the three words "Qin Qianluo" caused her to stumble, as if something was blocking her throat, and she couldn't make a sound for a long time. Even her silver bells seemed to lose their tone.
Today, however, it has missed so many details, even something as simple as "a jade tea caddy with silver trim"—it was only mentioned by someone secretly peeking over the edge of the table, their nose almost touching the rim of the caddy.
Only then could you see the fine lines at the silver edge of the jar, and even smell the fresh aroma of Longjing tea lingering at the mouth of the jar. These details were revealed, which was a pleasant surprise.
Even my fingers, which were gripping the teacup, loosened slightly, the white marks on my knuckles faded a bit, and my palms became slightly sweaty.
When it talks until its mouth is dry, its tongue (if it has one) is probably curled up, and its paws unconsciously scratch the empty teacup in circles.
He rubbed the remaining green tea stains at the bottom of the cup, spreading them out in circles, like drawing a small circle on the table.
It even rubbed the osmanthus leaves with tea stains, staining the edges of the leaves a faint green. Only then did I slowly raise my eyes, gently tap the table with my fingertips, and keep my voice calm.
It's like talking about something as mundane as "the tea's gone cold today, let's get a hot one": "I'm not interested in immortality."
The secret stories of the previous dynasty from her past life that she found in the hidden compartment of the Regent's library had already thoroughly explained the absurdity of seeking immortality.
When Qin Shi Huang sent Xu Fu across the sea in search of immortality, he brought with him three thousand boys and girls, a ship full of silk and treasures, and a hundred jars of aged Shaoxing wine.
Even the oars were wrapped in brocade, for fear of disturbing the sea gods. In the end, all that was left was a vast ocean, and not even a trace of the sails could be seen.
The mercury in the Lishan Tomb is still bone-chillingly cold, and the eternal lamps in the tomb passage have been extinguished and lit again, with jar after jar of lamp oil being boiled dry.
Yet he didn't even get a sliver of divine favor, leaving only a pile of yellow earth to bury his illusions.
The emperor of the Liang Dynasty was obsessed with alchemy. The lead and mercury in the alchemical furnace poisoned him to the bone marrow. Even his speech had a metallic smell, and his fingers trembled so much that he could not hold a pen.
His imperial edicts were crooked and illegible. On his deathbed, he clutched the failed pills and refused to let go, his fingernails digging into the cracks of the pills, and blood seeping onto them.
In the end, not only did he not achieve immortality, but his empire also fell into ruin. The bloodstains on the palace walls, weathered by decades of wind and rain, turned a dark brown color when wet, as if they were crying silently.
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