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墨書 Inktalez
"Disciple, go ahead. You must understand that in the loneliness of immortality, only I know you and you know me. I fear not the destruction of my form and spirit, but I worry that after I am gone, you will be all alone in this vast world, facing endless solitude."
Qianyu Fairy's face was pale, devoid of color. She reached out and grasped Song Mingyu's trembling hand tightly.
Tears streamed down my face as I slowly shook my head, memories flashing through my mind like a revolving lantern, recalling the moments spent with Song Mingyu during our childhood.
I remember when I first saw him; he was thin and frail, dressed in dark blue clothes, his brows furrowed tightly, looking utterly unhappy—like a little old man.
Yet this little old man knelt beside me in the medical hall without hesitation when my parents punished me, gently wiping my tears with his sleeve.
He knew I loved candied fruits and would secretly wrap a few in his sleeve, coaxing me to eat them with a doting expression until he finally saw me smile, then he felt at ease.
I still remember him solemnly promising me, "Jiu Jiu, I will not let you suffer even the slightest harm. Absolutely not."
It turned out that all of this was a lie, as fragile as Mirror Flower, Water Moon—shattering at the slightest touch.
"Jiu Jiu..." He gritted his teeth, struggling to force those two words from his throat, his hand reaching out to me from afar as if trying to grasp something.
I choked back a sob and stumbled into his embrace for what would be the last time in my life. I caught a whiff of the familiar and warm scent of medicine—this was Song Mingyu's fragrance.
Though I knew it might be a trap, I still threw myself into it without hesitation.
As Song Mingyu's tears fell onto my shoulder, a sharp and icy blade pierced into my body—an inch, two inches—the excruciating pain felt as if it were tearing me apart.
In my gradually fading consciousness, I struggled to open my eyes and saw Song Mingyu with tears streaming down his face.
I wanted so much to wipe away his tears because he looked so unattractive while crying, completely losing the charm he usually had.
If he had always looked like this, I would never have liked him. If I hadn't liked him, how could I have met him?
Yes, if I hadn't liked him three hundred years ago, I wouldn't have encountered him again.
I finally remembered that three hundred years ago, I was just a little meerkat, fond of snuggling in my parents' arms or sneaking out in human form to play.
The place I loved the most was the peach grove in Qian Deng Town, not because it was breathtakingly beautiful, but because there was someone named Song Mingyu there.
He liked to wear dark blue clothes, holding a green flute, standing tall under the fluttering peach trees, lost in thought.
Many of my friends didn't understand why I was so captivated; only I knew that his flute music carried a wonderful emotion.
At that time, I didn't realize that this emotion was a soul-destroying poison—something to be avoided and never loved. Because when that love is unattainable, it feels worse than death.
Now, I truly understand this feeling.
Looking at Song Mingyu's familiar features, I recalled a line from a book: "The bond has always been shallow, yet the feelings run deep."
We met no later than Qianyu, yet we lacked the fate to hold hands and grow old together.
Qianyu's expression changed; her originally fair face darkened in an instant, and her fingers clenched tightly around her clothing, turning white from the force of her grip.
"She's just a mortal. How can you stay with her?" Qianyu's tone carried a hint of reluctance and questioning.
Song Mingyu let out a gentle sigh, his gaze softening as he looked at me in his arms. He slowly said, "We've been together as master and disciple for a hundred years, but what has it amounted to? My time with Jiu Jiu, even if it's just a few decades, is enough."
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