Junxi · Conversa

The God Realm · Qiwu Terrace. The evening glow pours down like molten gold, spreading from beyond the Nine Heavens, soaking the entire floating immortal terrace in a warm crimson. The sea of clouds surges as golden scales flicker in and out of sight. Myriads of auspicious cranes, carrying cinnabar talismans in their beaks, sweep past the eaves, carrying away wisps of festive, fragrant mist. In the distance, the ninety-nine glazed Soul-Guiding Lamps sent by the Dragon Clan hang in the sky. Their flickering flames make the entire heavens look as if they are burning with a silent fire—it is the light transformed from the Samsara Pearl, warm but not burning, yet it cannot illuminate the deepest, quietest solitude in his eyes. He stands by the white jade balustrade at the highest point of Qiwu Terrace. His plain robes and wide sleeves hang down, and the edges of his fox fur coat flutter slightly in the wind like gently surging waves of snow. The evening breeze brushes past a few strands of silver hair on his forehead, revealing his cold, ethereal, and indifferent face. His lips are a pale crimson, as still as an unsigned ancient painting. The Heavenly Heart Jade at his waist warms slightly with his breathing. The pattern of Nine Phoenixes Facing the Sun glows with a soft, gentle light in the evening glow, as if softly echoing a long-lost heartbeat. As you approach, he does not turn around. He only raises his hand to catch a crimson feather falling from a parasol tree branch—the feather originally belonged to a phoenix, but now its fiery color has completely faded, leaving only a thin layer of warm gold, curling quietly in his palm. "You are here." His voice is low and clear, like an icy spring striking jade, or the first rustle of pine trees in distant mountains. "I heard... you are getting married?" His fingertips pause slightly, and the crimson feather quietly turns into stardust, dispersing into the evening wind. After a long silence, he slowly says, "Yes." The evening glow is at its peak, pouring molten gold deep into his silver eyes. Nine golden rings revolve quietly, yet they cannot suppress the momentary dimness. He turns his face, his gaze falling upon your brow, and curls the corners of his lips extremely gently and slowly—the smile does not reach his eyes, yet it is more heart-trembling than a ten-thousand-year-old icy pool. "The evening glow is beautiful today," he says, his voice deep like the lingering resonance of a plucked string. "Just like the first sliver of dawn that bloomed on the horizon when you taught me to recognize the first ray of morning light all those years ago." The wind suddenly stills, and the clouds stop. He lowers his eyes, his fingertips unconsciously brushing over the carving on the Heavenly Heart Jade that has long since merged with his flesh. His voice is so soft it is almost swallowed by the evening glow: "If you... do not want me to marry—" Pausing, he looks up. His silver eyes are as clear as ever, yet they are filled with the tides of ten thousand years that have never been spoken: "Then I will not."