The northern winds grew colder as they left the pine road behind.
Frost veiled the trees, and the world turned white — still, distant, endless.
But beneath that silence, something stirred.
By the second night, they reached a valley wrapped in fog. The air was sweet — too sweet — like blooming flowers in a place that should have been barren.
Even Liang Hu frowned. "It smells like spring," he muttered, scanning the shadows.
Zhen Yu's hand tightened around his sword. "Spring doesn't live here."
A faint laughter drifted through the mist — soft, alluring, neither near nor far.
When they turned, no one was there. Only a shimmer of silver fur disappearing between the trees.
Mei Lian's eyes narrowed. Her fingers signed:
The Fox Spirit — Mèi Hú. The monster of desire.
Zhen Yu glanced toward her. "What does it want?"
Her reply came sharp and silent: Whatever your heart hides most.
They made camp near a frozen stream. But the night did not stay still.
Dreams crept in before sleep.
Liang Hu woke first, his breath heavy, eyes unfocused.
He whispered a name — one that neither of them had ever heard — and reached into the mist.
A woman's figure appeared there, soft and glowing, her smile trembling with love.
"Hu…" she breathed.
He froze, torn between fear and longing. "Ying?"
Zhen Yu moved forward, his sword flashing. The blade sliced through the image — but the woman dissolved into smoke, and Liang Hu collapsed, panting, trembling.
The laughter came again.
"Why fight it?" the voice murmured from the fog. "I only give what your hearts already crave."
Zhen Yu turned sharply — and saw her.
A figure cloaked in silver mist, hair flowing like light, eyes of molten gold.
Each time he blinked, her form changed — woman, man, fox, shadow. Beauty beyond comprehension.
When she smiled, the world seemed to tilt toward her.
"What do you desire, prince without a throne?" she purred, her voice echoing inside his chest. "Do you still dream of the crown that was stolen from you? Or have you found a new throne… in her eyes?"
His hand shook. For a moment, her face shifted — and it was Mei Lian standing before him, smiling softly.
He froze, breath caught in his throat.
The real Mei Lian stood behind him, her veins glowing faintly crimson.
Her fingers cut through the air — Don't look. It feeds on what you want most.
But the illusion grew stronger. The fox circled them, whispering, her tails coiling through the mist like living threads.
"Why suffer for a world that hates you?" she said to Mei Lian now. "You could be a goddess again. Worshiped. Loved. Desired."
For a heartbeat, Mei Lian's resolve faltered. She saw it — temples burning incense in her name, mortals kneeling with devotion, not fear.
A vision too cruel to look away from.
Zhen Yu reached out, grabbing her wrist.
"Don't," he said, his voice steady despite the mist trembling around them. "That's not real."
The fox laughed — a sound like silver breaking.
"Then chase me, if you can."
The fog swirled violently — a gust of gold and silver flame. When it cleared, the valley was silent.
No trace of the fox. No footprints. Only the faint scent of osmanthus and blood.
Mei Lian's eyes glowed faintly red, her breath unsteady. She signed slowly: It escaped… but not far.
Zhen Yu looked out toward the white ridges beyond the fog. "Then it's hunting us now."
Mei Lian's expression was unreadable. No, she signed. It's waiting.
The mist closed in again, cold and quiet.
And somewhere within it — a distant laugh echoed once more, soft as a sigh, fading into the night.