Morning arrived with a hush, too quiet for a celestial palace.
Jin Xuan Yue sat in the Hall of Offerings, facing a table where a delicate, silver-wrought mirror had been left — no name, no explanation. Only a single plum blossom resting beside it.
He frowned.
"Who dares leave something so… uninvited," he murmured.
Beside him, his loyal shadow — Zhao Chen, the silent guardian — remained motionless.
Jin Xuan Yue's fingers hovered above the mirror's surface.
There was no reflection.
No face. No background. Only shifting clouds, silver mist in a void.
He leaned closer.
And suddenly— a flash.
A pair of golden eyes.
Then darkness.
He stumbled back.
Zhao Chen reached for his sword instinctively, but Jin Xuan Yue raised a hand to stop him.
"I saw… her eyes," he whispered. "Not Li Hua's. Hers."
Zhao Chen tilted his head slightly. "The one you still dream of?"
The war god's jaw clenched.
"I never stopped."
---
Elsewhere, Li Hua was in the courtyard, sweeping petals. Her hands moved out of habit, but her mind was far away.
Last night, she had seen him again. His eyes — more unsettled than before. As if... remembering.
No. I can't let him remember.
She turned, only to bump into Jin Mei, the spirited younger sister of the war god, who grinned as always.
"You look like a cloud with secrets," Jin Mei said, biting into a sweet lotus bun.
Li Hua quickly bowed. "Forgive me, young miss. I didn't see you there."
"Oh please," Jin Mei waved her off. "If I were a plum tree you'd have walked right through me. What's on your mind, hmm? Thinking of someone tall, brooding, and shiny?"
Li Hua flushed. "I—No! That's not—"
"Too bad," Jin Mei winked. "My brother could use someone to loosen the frost in his bones."
He used to be warm, Li Hua thought. Once.
---
That evening, Rui Shen, the ever-enthusiastic companion of Jin Xuan Yue, burst into the Hall of Stars holding a stack of scrolls.
"Guess what I found!" he shouted.
Jin Xuan Yue didn't look up. "A way to set the palace on fire without getting caught?"
"Ha! That was one time!" Rui Shen dropped the scrolls. "But seriously. Ancient folklore about fox spirits. You know — nine tails, ethereal beauty, known for… tragic romances."
Jin Xuan Yue paused.
Fox.
Tails.
Tragedy.
He turned his gaze slowly toward the scrolls.
"…Bring them."
---
That night, Li Hua wandered into the old pavilion where the celestial wind chimes sang. Her fingers brushed the carved railing.
She sensed it.
Something was coming.
Something old.
Something familiar.
And then she heard it — the faint echo of her name.
Not "Li Hua."
But "Qing Yue."
Her blood ran cold.