The snow had softened by morning, turning the valley paths into silver mirrors beneath a pale sun.
Mei Lian stood by the riverbank, her reflection shifting with the ripples — two faces overlapping, one hers, one faintly golden.
The fox's presence stirred faintly within her chest. "You wish to master me?" it whispered, its voice a breath beneath thought.
She ignored it, focusing on the current.
Her palms rose, fingers curling through a silent pattern. Shadows rippled outward, bending the light. The water shimmered — and suddenly, another figure appeared within it.
A woman laughing, radiant with youth, holding a child.
Not real — only someone's longing made flesh.
The illusion broke when the wind moved. She exhaled, eyes narrowing. Too much heart, not enough control.
Each vision she called forth bled emotion into her veins — hunger, sorrow, love. None of it hers, yet all of it tasted too familiar.
Zhen Yu approached quietly, his footsteps crunching in the snow.
"You've been out here since dawn," he said. "Liang Hu's starting to think you've turned into a spirit of the river."
She half-smiled but didn't turn. Her hands shaped words in the air:
I'm learning to control it. The fox's illusions.
He stepped beside her, studying the water. "You can show people what they want most?"
She nodded slowly. If I can see it, I can shape it. But I risk… becoming it.
Her voice trembled at the edges of thought — that whisper again, sweet as silk:
Why fight it, little witch? Desire is only truth unveiled…
She pressed her hand against her temple, forcing the sound away.
"I need a focus," she murmured. "A truth stronger than temptation."
She looked at Zhen Yu then — and without warning, the magic moved on its own.
Her eyes flared gold, and the air between them thickened with heat.
For an instant, she saw through him.
Not his face, not his armor — but the dream beneath his silence.
He stood in a great hall of light, a crown laid before him.
Yet he turned away from it — toward a field of peach blossoms.
There, under the falling petals, a woman stood barefoot in the wind — Mei Lian.
But not the real her — a version without pain, smiling, whole, alive.
The vision shattered as quickly as it came.
Zhen Yu staggered, clutching his chest as if struck by memory.
"What did you—"
Mei Lian's eyes dimmed, the gold fading back to crimson. "I saw… something I shouldn't."
He looked at her for a long moment. The cold between them was heavy, yet there was no anger in his gaze — only sorrow.
"Don't apologize," he said quietly. "Maybe it's time someone else saw what I've buried."
She turned away, guilt pooling behind her ribs. The fox laughed softly inside her.
You felt it too, didn't you? His longing. His heart. And how easily it could be yours.
Mei Lian closed her eyes, forcing the laughter out. The wind rose, scattering frost from the branches.
By dusk, the river was still again.
Her reflection no longer wavered between woman and fox — only a single, steady form staring back.
She breathed deeply, whispering to herself:
"I will not become you. You will become me."
From within, the fox purred — not defeated, but patient.
We'll see, little witch. We'll see.
And somewhere behind her, Zhen Yu watched from the edge of the trees — his hand resting over the place where his heart still ached from the vision, wondering if the illusion had shown only his desire… or hers too.