—
200 years later —
—
Morning mist drifted over the forest like slow-moving breath.
It curled around tall cedar trees and ancient bamboo, softening the edges of their trunks until they looked like shadows drawn in silver.
Shafts of sunlight broke through in golden ribbons, glimmering over dew-drenched leaves.
Deeper inside the forest, a waterfall poured down from a high cliff — its roar softened by distance, echoing like a whisper that never stopped.
Beneath it spread a wide golden lake.
Its surface shimmered like liquid metal, catching every hue of dawn — from soft pink to bright amber.
When the wind stirred, the light rippled and broke into a thousand scattered coins of gold.
—
Beside that lake stood a small house.
White wood, pale stone, a roof carved with curved tiles — elegant yet simple.
The garden that surrounded it was breathtaking; rows of blooming peonies and lilies framed narrow stone paths, and a few cherry trees leaned gently toward the lake, their petals brushing the surface.
Birds called softly between the trees.
A soft breeze stirred the chimes hanging by the doorway, their silver threads singing faintly in the wind.
—
And then, from somewhere near the lake—came a sound.
A voice.
Soft at first, like the whisper of water over stones.
Then clearer, rising with the morning breeze—a humming melody, light, ethereal, carrying something both joyful and haunting.
The mist parted slightly.
There, by the edge of the golden lake, stood a young girl.
Barefoot upon the wet grass, she moved as though born of the mist itself—each step light, her slender waist swaying with the rhythm of her song.
Her silver hair flowed down her back, reaching her waist, gleaming like threads of moonlight under the pale sun.
Her skin was flawless, so fair it seemed carved from snow itself, and her lips—softly red like the first bloom of spring.
—
She wore a flowing red dress interwoven with gold and silver thread.
The silk was sheer and light, its sleeves long and ribbon-like, fluttering whenever she twirled.
Tiny silver flowers traced the hem, and a soft golden sash was tied around her waist, accentuating her grace.
It was traditional in form—like the gowns worn by noble daughters in ancient clans—but modern in its shimmer and cut, making her look otherworldly, ethereal.
A silk ribbon tied around her waist swayed gently as she moved.
—
In her hands, she held a small basket filled with fresh fruit — purple grapes, crimson strawberries, snow pears, golden loquats, and round pink lychees.
Morning dew clung to them, catching the light like jewels.
Her eyes were closed as she hummed softly, her voice blending with the breeze.
She spun lightly, her silver hair fanning out around her, the hem of her dress swirling like fire.
One arm lifted gracefully above her head, her slender fingers pale and smooth, glowing faintly against the sunlight.
—
Then surface of the lake rippled.
A koi fish broke through—its scales shimmering orange and white.
It leapt once, sending a spray of water into the air, then circled close to the shore as if greeting her.
Her lips curved in a smile. "Good morning, Jin'er," she whispered softly.
The fish twirled its tail as though answering.
Butterflies, pale blue and gold, fluttered around her, landing on her shoulders and hair.
She laughed quietly, a sound so pure it melted into the breeze itself.
"And good morning to you too."
—
She rose and brushed her hands against her dress, glancing toward the small house near the waterfall.
"I should go to the village later," she murmured. "We're running out of rice and tea again."
—
As she climbed the small jade steps to the doorway, the butterflies lifted and scattered like tiny lanterns.
—
Inside, the little house was bright and warm.
The living room glowed faintly from the sunlight filtering through carved wooden panels.
A low table stood near the window, covered with neatly folded silks, dried herbs, and scrolls of painting paper, and a window overlooking the lake, framed by flowing white curtains.
A porcelain vase filled with lotus blooms sat in the corner beside a zither, and the faint fragrance of sandalwood lingered in the air.
—
In the kitchen, bamboo shelves held jars of dried fruits and spices.
Everything was clean, precise—like the home of someone who lived in peaceful solitude, yet found beauty in every breath.
The girl set her basket down and tied up her sleeves.
Picking up a long, slender broom made of golden reed and red twine, she began to sweep the floor gently, humming the same melody from before.
Her movements were unhurried, graceful, the song filling the small house like sunlight through a window.
—
After cleaning, she walked to her bedroom.
The chamber was simple yet exquisite—walls of pale wood, silk curtains fluttering near the bed carved of dark sandalwood.
A small vanity table held a jade comb, hairpins shaped like phoenix feathers, and a delicate silver mirror.
She opened the lacquered closet, pulling out a few garments.
She folded them neatly upon the bed, then picked up a silk towel embroidered with faint cloud patterns.
—
Stepping outside again, she walked down the stone path leading to the lake.
The mist greeted her once more, curling around her ankles as she approached the water's edge.
Her reflection rippled faintly on the golden surface.
For a long moment, she simply stood there, gazing at her reflection—then slowly untied the golden sash around her waist.
The fabric slipped away soundlessly, and the mist thickened, veiling everything but the faint shimmer of her silver hair and the curve of her shoulder as she stepped into the water.
—
The lake was cool, glowing faintly beneath her touch.
Ripples spread outward as she dipped beneath the surface, her hair floating like silk in the golden light.
The sound of the waterfall echoed softly in the distance, the world tranquil, timeless.
—
Minutes passed.
Then she emerged slowly, droplets running down her skin like crystal beads, tracing faint paths along her shoulders.
Her silver hair caught the sunlight and shimmered like a halo.
She wrapped the silk towel around herself, her breathing calm, serene.
Kneeling by the rocks, she rinsed her garments and laid them carefully across smooth stones that gleamed silver under the sun.
—
After some time, she returned to her bedroom and changed into a new outfit — this one orange, embroidered with faint gold clouds.
It hugged her waist lightly, the long sleeves flowing as she moved.
The color caught the sun beautifully, glowing against her pale skin.
Her long hair was tied half-up with a silver ribbon, strands fluttering around her face.
—
Afterwards, she headed to the living room.
From the basket of fruits, she picked a few grapes, pressing them lightly between her fingers before popping one into her mouth.
Then she reached for another basket, covered herself with a light silk veil—white, translucent, revealing only her bright, glass-like eyes.
"Let's go," she whispered.
The corners of her eyes curved in amusement as she popped a grape into her mouth as though amused at how she talked to herself.
—
Humming once again, she stepped outside.
The morning had grown brighter, the mist slowly fading from the trees.
—
She followed a narrow path that led deeper into the forest.
The air smelled of pine and wildflowers.
The trees stood tall, their trunks covered in moss and vines, while faint spiritual energy shimmered faintly in the air — like invisible threads of light.
Shafts of sunlight broke through the canopy in golden lines, illuminating drifting particles of mist.
The ground was soft, covered with moss and fallen leaves that muffled her footsteps.
Birds darted overhead, and somewhere in the distance, a fox barked faintly.
She walked lightly, occasionally tossing a grape into her mouth as she hummed softly to herself.
The forest birds answered her melody in fragments.
—
Then—
A sound.
Faint, but clear.
The hum in her throat stopped.
She tilted her head slightly, her delicate ears twitching faintly beneath her silver hair.
Rustling.
Not far—no, not too close either.
Her brows drew together.
The sound came from the northern edge of the forest—about eleven li away.
Her pulse quickened, her senses sharp.
No one ever came here.
Not since that day long ago when the heavens fell silent above the Imperial Lake.
—
So who—
Who would dare to enter now?
She placed the basket down gently on a rock, eyes narrowing, and in a heartbeat—her form blurred.
The grass barely stirred as she moved.
Her speed was inhuman—like lightning streaking through fog.
Branches whipped past, wind singing around her as she raced through the ancient forest.
Leaves scattered behind her in a wild spiral.
Her feet barely touched the ground as she raced through the trees, each leap faster than the last.
—
In two minutes—three, at most—she reached the edge of the woods.
She slowed about to crouch slightly so she could peer through the veil of mist as her fingers twitched toward her waist where her small blade was hidden—
Who are they?
—
But before she could take another step—
SWOOSH!
A sharp sound sliced through the air.
Instinct screamed through her bones.
She twisted aside just as an arrow shot past her face—close enough that it sliced through a strand of her silver hair.
It buried itself into the tree behind her with a dull thud.
Her eyes widened—then hardened, cold as the lake's depths.
—