"A-Xi, do you really not remember anything?"
This winter, Bai Shuo spent most of her time sprawled across the corridor of the rear courtyard in the General's residence, asking this same question repeatedly. It had become a ritual, a litany, a desperate attempt to find someone—anyone—who remembered what she knew to be true.
Bai Xi sat upright at her desk, the picture of propriety, diligently copying the Book of Women's Virtues with careful brushstrokes. She responded with practiced helplessness to the noisy Bai Shuo, her tone carrying the patience of someone who'd answered this question dozens of times before.
"I don't remember, I don't remember."
"Ah, what a pity!" Bai Shuo lounged lazily against the corridor railing, basking in the winter sun like a contented cat while eating grapes one by one. Her eyes grew distant, filled with longing for something beyond mortal reach. "You didn't see that Divine Lord—his features were so handsome!"
She paused, selecting another grape with deliberate care. "And his eyes were purple, just like..." She gazed at the sky, squinting against the brightness, murmuring almost to herself, "Like a purple moon."
Bai Xi's brush froze mid-stroke. She looked up sharply, ink dripping onto the pristine paper. "What did you say? A purple moon?"
Bai Shuo froze, realizing her mistake. She quickly waved her hands in denial, forcing casualness into her voice. "Nothing, nothing."
She stared at the serene and gentle Bai Xi—her sister who copied scriptures and practiced virtue, who remembered nothing of blood and death and violet light—and let out a long sigh that seemed to carry the weight of secrets too heavy for a child's shoulders.
Such a terrifying thing. A-Xi had always been timid, prone to nightmares and fears. Perhaps it was better she didn't remember. Perhaps forgetting was its own kind of mercy.
Bai Xi looked at Bai Shuo and also sighed deeply, though for different reasons.
She set down her brush with deliberate care and spoke earnestly to her younger sister, her tone taking on the instructive quality their mother often used. "A-Shuo, you're a young lady. Talking about how handsome a man is should only be done at home—it would be improper if word got out."
She paused, her face filling with worry that aged her beyond her years. "And those absurd stories of yours..." Another pause, heavier than the first. "You must never mention them in front of others."
Ever since they had gotten lost during the Lantern Festival and returned home, A-Shuo had been spouting nonsense about demons and immortals. She insisted with frightening conviction that a deity had rescued them from bandits and a nine-headed serpent monster, painting elaborate tales of purple moons and divine thrones.
But in reality—in the reality everyone else agreed upon—they had simply wandered off in the crowded streets and were found by their father and his guards in an alley in the southern district. Nothing more. Nothing less.
After hearing Bai Shuo mention encountering an immortal and monsters during the Lantern Festival just once, their father had sternly punished her with the family discipline. He'd made her kneel in the ancestral hall for a full day, knees aching on cold stone. Whatever he had said to her during those long hours, Bai Shuo never spoke of that day in front of others again.
Though she had become particularly, almost obsessively, fascinated with books about gods and monsters in private.
Ah, it seemed getting lost had frightened A-Shuo out of her wits.
Bai Xi shook her head, deeply distressed and worried for her sister's mental state. What if she spoke these fantasies in front of the wrong people? What if word reached the palace?
Bai Shuo watched Bai Xi sighing and shaking her head with such maternal concern, and recalled the promise she had made to their father in the ancestral hall. The memory was sharp, painful. She pursed her lips and kept deliberately silent about the events of the Lantern Festival, swallowing words that burned in her throat.
Closing her eyes against the winter sun, the memory of her father's words in the ancestral hall surfaced with crystalline clarity.
"Nonsense! I told you—you two sisters got lost in the southern district. What kind of wild stories are you telling your mother and sister every day?"
"I'm not lying! Father, that day A-Xi and I really were kidnapped by monsters, and an immortal saved us!" Bai Shuo had argued with the fierce urgency of someone whose truth was being denied, her large eyes wide with insistence. "Didn't you find us behind the imperial mausoleum outside the city? The people who took us had turned into skeletons!"
In the Bai family ancestral hall, surrounded by tablets bearing the names of ancestors who seemed to judge from beyond death, Bai Xun had looked at his stubborn youngest daughter and sighed with the weariness of a man carrying too many secrets.
"A-Shuo, your sister is destined to enter the Eastern Palace as the Crown Princess. If people knew she had once been kidnapped, how would she face the world in the future?"
The question landed like a physical blow.
Bai Shuo, who had been puffing up like a fighting rooster ready for battle, instantly deflated at these words. She looked at Bai Xun, understanding blooming painfully in her young mind. She pouted and lowered her head in reluctant acceptance.
"I understand, Father."
Seeing her dejected expression—so different from her usual spirited defiance—Bai Xun's heart softened. He sat cross-legged beside his youngest daughter and patted her head with rough, calloused hands that had held swords more often than children.
"Tell me, what really happened that day?"
Bai Shuo's eyes lit up instantly, brightening like stars emerging at dusk. Since she had awakened, Bai Xun had been buried in political affairs and returned late every day, exhausted and preoccupied. A-Xi, who had miraculously come back to life, had completely forgotten the events of that night—or claimed to. Their mother would burst into tears whenever Bai Shuo so much as mentioned the Lantern Festival, dissolving into sobs that wracked her entire body.
Bai Shuo had wanted to share every detail of that night with a family member, needed to speak it aloud to confirm it was real, but hadn't found the chance until now.
With great excitement barely contained, she recounted the events of the Lantern Festival night to Bai Xun. The kidnapping. The demon. The negotiations. Her voice showed no trace of fear—only admiration, pure and bright, for the black-robed Divine Lord in ancient attire who had descended like judgment itself.
Yet, no matter how hard she tried, no matter how deeply she searched her memory, she couldn't recall the name of the immortal who had saved them. It slipped through her mind like water through cupped hands, leaving only the echo of violet eyes and a purple moon.
Though young, Bai Shuo possessed a keen and clever mind beyond her years. She kept Bai Xi's suicide attempt a secret, instinctively understanding that some truths were too dangerous to speak. She only said that her sister had fainted from fright and hadn't seen the immortal descending from the sky to rescue them.
A merciful lie, for A-Xi's sake.
After listening in silence, Bai Xun remained quiet for a long time. His eyes grew red-rimmed as he gently ruffled his youngest daughter's soft hair, the gesture achingly tender.
"Perhaps it's for the best that A-Xi forgot such a calamity. For you two sisters to survive such a disaster is truly a blessing," he sighed, voice thick with emotion he rarely showed.
He had found the two girls on the back hill of the imperial mausoleum outside the city. He had witnessed the eerie strangeness of that night—the skeletons, the blood, the inexplicable wounds that vanished. So he knew his youngest wasn't lying, wasn't conjuring fantasies from fever dreams.
Having spent his life on the battlefield, his hands stained with the blood of countless enemies, he never expected the heavens to be so kind to his daughters. To allow them to escape death with the help of an immortal seemed like mercy beyond measure.
Yet, he couldn't tell whether this rescue would bring fortune or misfortune to the Bai household in the years to come.
Tales of immortals occasionally circulated among the common folk, yes—but they were mostly dismissed as myths, stories to entertain children and comfort the dying. Now that the Bai family had reached the pinnacle of worldly power, and A-Xi's identity as the future Crown Princess was particularly sensitive, rumors of the sisters being saved by an immortal could bring unforeseen trouble.
Political enemies might use it to claim divine disapproval. Rivals might whisper of demonic influence. The court was a nest of vipers, and even mercy could be weaponized.
As the head of the family, responsible for their survival and prosperity, Bai Xun thought three steps ahead. Seeing his youngest daughter's lingering fascination with the immortal—that dangerous gleam in her eyes—he warned her sternly.
"Shuo'er, you must bury what happened that night deep inside. For your sister's sake, never speak of it to anyone again."
Bai Shuo, wise beyond her years and learning wisdom faster still, nodded obediently.
"And one more thing…" Bai Xun's gaze darkened, taking on the quality of tempered steel. "Never mention that immortal again."
Bai Shuo jerked her head up, meeting her father's stern eyes. Her face was full of grievance, betrayal even, but her voice—though small—was firm as mountain stone.
"But Father, I promised the Divine Lord who saved me that I would cultivate the Dao diligently, become an immortal, live for thousands of years, and repay him one day."
Bai Xun couldn't help but laugh at his daughter's earnest vow, the sound mixing affection with exasperation. He tapped her forehead lightly, the gesture both chiding and fond.
"Thousands of years? If you live a smooth hundred years, I'll be thanking the heavens!"
He lifted Bai Shuo from the cushion with strong arms and took her small hand in his, leading her outside into winter sunlight.
"A-Shuo, encounters with immortals are rare and unpredictable. Meeting one once is already a stroke of luck—perhaps the only one you'll receive in this lifetime." His voice softened. "From now on… don't bring it up again."
Though Bai Xun's warning echoed in her ears even now, weeks later, Bai Shuo could never forget those deep, mysterious violet eyes beneath the vast purple moon. They haunted her dreams. They colored her waking thoughts.
She blinked against the present, the bright winter sunlight warming her face as she squinted at the ordinary sky, searching in vain for even a trace of the purple moon's glow. Nothing. Only the common blue expanse and the harsh brightness of the sun forced her to give up the search, eyes watering.
"A-Shuo!" A cheerful boy's voice suddenly rang out from the corridor, shattering her contemplation.
The two sisters looked up to see Chong Zhao approaching with a large wooden box clutched in his arms, his young face bright with the uncomplicated joy of youth.
The young master of the Left Minister's household, Chong Zhao, was three years older than the sisters—handsome in that boyish way, sunny in disposition, and their childhood companion. Bai Shuo and Chong Zhao had been betrothed since childhood by family arrangement, and now they were at that perfect age of playful camaraderie before adult expectations descended.
Knowing the sisters had gotten lost on the night of the Lantern Festival and that Bai Shuo had fallen seriously ill afterward, Chong Zhao had been bringing little trinkets daily to cheer her up. Toys and sweets and small treasures meant to coax smiles.
Bai Xi, mindful of her status as the future Crown Princess and the propriety it demanded, merely nodded at Chong Zhao with reserved grace. She was practicing already to be someone else.
Chong Zhao bowed properly to Bai Xi with the respect due her position before running up to Bai Shuo with less restrained enthusiasm. He carefully examined her expression, searching for signs of lingering illness, and seeing that her energy was much better than the previous few days, finally relaxed with a relieved smile.
He opened the wooden box with the pride of someone presenting treasure and pushed it toward her.
"A-Shuo, I brought you a bamboo dragonfly and a spinning top from Xiangfu Pavilion."
Bai Shuo glanced into the box with minimal interest, picked up the bamboo dragonfly, and touched it lightly with one finger before replying listlessly, "Oh."
The single syllable carried crushing disinterest.
Seeing her lack of enthusiasm, Chong Zhao's face fell. His shoulders drooped as he asked softly, worriedly, "Are you still not fully recovered?"
"I'm fine." Bai Shuo fiddled with the dragonfly absently, spinning it between her fingers, her mind wandering far away—to purple moons and impossible promises. None of her usual cheerfulness showed in her face.
Chong Zhao, with his youthful heart-nature and simple desires, loved Bai Shuo's smiling face most in all the world. Desperate to see it again, he quickly offered, "Then why aren't you happy? Whatever you want to do, I'll go with you!"
At this, Bai Shuo's eyes brightened significantly, interest finally sparking. She was about to say something when she caught sight of Bai Xi practicing calligraphy in the study with single-minded focus. She tugged at Chong Zhao's sleeve conspiratorially.
"Let's go play outside. We shouldn't disturb A-Xi's calligraphy practice."
Chong Zhao had always felt awkward around Bai Xi—her serene perfection made him feel clumsy and too loud—and was more than happy to agree, nodding repeatedly with relief.
The two walked off together, carrying the wooden box and whispering to each other with their heads bent close. Bai Xi watched their retreating figures, laughter and playfulness trailing behind them like ribbons, and a trace of envy flickered in her carefully composed eyes.
Her gaze lingered on Bai Shuo—on her sister's animated gestures and easy smile with Chong Zhao—growing more distant, no longer as calm and composed as moments before. After a long while spent watching them disappear around the corner, she sighed deeply from some hollow place inside.
She pulled out a Buddhist scripture with deliberate movements and began copying it slowly, each character formed with painful precision.
The events of that night had been so shocking that no one wished to speak of them again. If that was the case, if silence was what everyone wanted, then she would simply pretend to forget. She would be the good daughter, the perfect sister, the ideal Crown Princess.
If only...
Bai Xi's hand paused mid-stroke, brush hovering above paper.
If only A-Shuo could also forget everything that happened that night and live peacefully and contentedly. If only her sister could be free of whatever burden pressed down on her young shoulders.
Once Chong Zhao and Bai Shuo had left the backyard and confirmed they were out of earshot, Chong Zhao pulled two books from the bottom of the wooden box where he'd hidden them beneath the toys. He placed them in Bai Shuo's hands with the air of a conspirator delivering contraband.
Bai Shuo looked at the two volumes of Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio in her hands, her eyes curving into delighted crescents as she exclaimed, "How did you know I wanted these books?"
Seeing her finally smile—truly smile with that brightness he loved—Chong Zhao puffed up proudly like a rooster. "Is there anything this Young Master doesn't know? You asked Uncle Bai to buy these ghost stories for you outside. The bookstore is run by the eldest son of my wet nurse, so of course the news reached me."
He had his sources. His network of information.
Bai Shuo grew even more excited, practically bouncing on her toes as she tugged at his sleeve. "Really? Then you have to bring me more books like this in the future! As many as you can find!"
Chong Zhao nodded readily but couldn't help feeling curious about the sudden obsession. "A-Shuo, you used to hate reading the most. You'd rather climb trees than sit with books. Why are you so into these ghost stories lately?"
Bai Shuo hesitated for a moment, weighing trust against secrecy. Then she decided not to hide it from Chong Zhao—he was her oldest friend, her future husband, the one person who might believe her. She leaned close and whispered in his ear, breath warm against his skin.
"A-Zhao, I need to tell you something."
"What is it?" Seeing her unusually serious expression, Chong Zhao straightened up, giving her his full attention.
"In the future... I probably won't be able to marry you," Bai Shuo said with startling earnestness, meeting his eyes directly.
The ten-year-old boy's face instantly paled, all color draining like water from cracked pottery. The wooden box in his arms fell to the ground with a clatter, the spinning top scattering and rolling away in all directions.
"W-why?" Chong Zhao stammered, his eyes reddening with the threat of tears he was too old to shed. "Does General Bai look down on me? Does he not want you to marry me?"
The eldest daughter of the Bai family had married the Crown Prince of the East Palace, ascending to heights most families only dreamed of. Bai Shuo was more than qualified to marry the son of a prince, perhaps even royalty herself. Chong Zhao knew this with painful clarity.
Though he was the legitimate son of the Left Chancellor, he had no achievements or titles to his name yet. No glory earned by his own hand. Marrying Bai Shuo was only possible because his family had once done General Bai a favor—a debt repaid with a betrothal contract.
As a child, he hadn't understood the implications. But now, having grown up with Bai Shuo, having been betrothed to her since childhood, he had long regarded her as his future wife. The idea of losing her felt like losing a limb.
"No, no!" Bai Shuo waved her hands frantically, trying to stem the panic in his eyes. "It has nothing to do with my father."
"Then... do you look down on me?" Chong Zhao's face grew even paler, taking on a grayish quality. "Have I done something wrong?"
"No, no!" Seeing that things were getting more tangled, misunderstandings multiplying, Bai Shuo decided to be straightforward. Sometimes the truth, however absurd, was simpler than elaborate lies.
"A-Zhao, I'm going to become an immortal in the future, so I can't get married."
Chong Zhao's face, already full of bitterness, twisted halfway through its expression as if he couldn't believe his ears. He stared at Bai Shuo, absolutely dumbfounded. "What did you say you're going to do?"
"Become an immortal!" Bai Shuo hugged the two books of supernatural tales tightly to her chest like shields and declared with fierce earnestness, "I've been reading a lot lately, and there are records of many immortal mountains and cultivation sects. Once my father lifts my house arrest, I'll go to those mountains to seek a master and learn the arts."
Her eyes blazed with conviction. "When I master the immortal techniques, I'll ascend and become an immortal. How could I stay in the mortal world to marry and settle down? That would trap me here when I have a debt to repay."
Chong Zhao stared at Bai Shuo for a long while without saying a word, his expression cycling through disbelief, concern, and something approaching pity. Bai Shuo grew increasingly uneasy under his gaze, squirming, and was about to speak when Chong Zhao reached out to feel her forehead.
Checking for fever. For illness.
"A-Shuo, are you alright?"
Bai Shuo swatted his hand away with indignation, pouting. "I'm not delirious!"
Chong Zhao awkwardly withdrew his hand, no longer angry about the broken betrothal but looking at Bai Shuo with profound helplessness. The look one gives someone who needs careful handling.
Seeing his expression—as if she were a patient to be humored and managed—Bai Shuo stiffened her face and turned sharply to leave, spine rigid with wounded pride.
"If you don't believe me, fine. I've already told you—I won't marry. I'm going to cultivate immortality."
Realizing she was truly upset, Chong Zhao quickly caught up to her with longer strides. "Alright, alright, I promise you."
Bai Shuo stopped abruptly and eyed him with deep suspicion. "You promise not to marry me?"
Chong Zhao shook his head, a small smile playing at his lips.
"Then what are you promising?"
"I promise to cultivate immortality with you."
Chong Zhao smiled fully now, patting Bai Shuo's small hair bun with gentle affection.
"Once you've recovered, if you want to seek a master in famous mountains and rivers, I'll go with you. If you want to cultivate immortality, I'll cultivate with you." His voice carried absolute sincerity. "Whatever you want to do, I'll be by your side."
Bai Shuo was stunned into silence. Looking into Chong Zhao's earnest eyes—seeing the unwavering loyalty there, the simple acceptance without judgment—a wave of emotion surged in her chest, overwhelming and unexpected.
Since returning home these past days, no matter what she said or did, her parents and A-Xi had dismissed her words. They ignored her truths, urged her to forget everything, warned her never to mention it again. They treated her conviction like illness to be cured.
Only Chong Zhao, who knew nothing of that night, who hadn't witnessed the purple moon or the demon or the god, was willing to believe her. Was willing to accompany her into madness.
For the first time, the young Bai Shuo looked at Chong Zhao—really looked at him—with new eyes. She saw not just her childhood friend, not just her betrothed, but someone who chose to stand beside her when no one else would.
She nodded firmly, the gesture carrying the weight of sacred vow. She took his hand in hers, squeezing tight, and promised with absolute sincerity.
"Alright, A-Zhao. I'll definitely take you with me to cultivate immortality. We'll live together for thousands and thousands of years!"
The promise hung in the winter air between them, impossible and perfect.
Meanwhile, beyond the mortal realm, outside the Phoenix Island of Parasol Trees where divine birds nested and immortal fires burned eternal, Tian Qi hovered mid-air.
He gazed down at the lush ancestral grove of parasol trees on the island, ancient specimens that predated human civilization. His violet eyes settled on the spot where the Phoenix Emperor's aura lingered like perfume, searching for something he couldn't quite name.
But his thoughts kept drifting back, unbidden and unwelcome, to a small mortal girl clutching his robes with bloodied hands.
I pledge my life to you, Divine Lord!
The memory was sharp, persistent. Like a thorn he couldn't extract.
Why had he made such a promise to her? What impulse had moved him?
He pushed the thought away, focusing on his original purpose. Yet even as he searched for traces of the Phoenix Emperor, part of his ancient consciousness remained in that mortal tomb, watching violet light restore life to a dying girl.
Some debts, it seemed, traveled both ways.
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