Chapter 1 Tears of the Fox Demon

Su Qing was a demon, and as for her age, it could be traced back to the era of the deification wars, when the masses rose together to overthrow Shang Zhou, standing alongside the gods. The most pitiful one was that fox demon, who became a sacrificial lamb of history. Su Qing knew her because she had sought her out a month before her execution, begging to have her memories erased.

But it wasn’t exactly erasure—more accurately, it was burning.

Burning away the past life, yearning for the next—many were like this.

As for reincarnation, Su Qing thought, such people could hardly be considered reincarnated. They were reborn again and again, losing the memories of their past lives each time. Though they seemed to live eternally, it was as if they had never truly lived—unable to compare with the past, nor be corrected by the future. Compared to those who could recall their past in dreams yet forget upon waking, there was still some regret, wasn’t there?

At least, in their dreams, they could share the sorrows and joys of their past selves. Though they couldn’t remember clearly, their hearts bore the imprints.

As if something was hidden there, aching relentlessly.

And Su Qing belonged to the latter. She could weep countless times in her dreams, but upon waking, her mind would be blank, her heart hollow, like a lifeless thing.

So, when that fox demon named Le Hen, after reincarnating, once again requested to burn away her memories, Su Qing could only think: how utterly pitiful. She remembered nothing of that life, of what she had endured, to now be so at peace with the man who had once been Ji Fa in a past life. She had caused Bo Yikao’s death, yet now she was to spend this lifetime repaying that debt—simply because he was Ji Fa’s elder brother.

She chose to forget only because she had loved too deeply—so deeply that in this life, a single smile from him could make her overlook the vengeance of her family’s ruin. Yet in the end, she still couldn’t escape the torment in her heart, so she chose to forget.

And so, in this courtyard filled with purple osmanthus trees, within the pavilion beneath the winding corridors, a woman draped in pale pink gauze with subtle patterns lowered a black silk cloth and instructed her little attendant, Jiu Jiu, to prepare the “Karma Candle.” With an extremely fine white jade brush tipped in purple, she lit a “Sleep Incense” in a floating lotus celadon burner—and thus, the grand act of memory’s surrender began.

Each person’s memories had patterns unique to them, like the veins on every leaf of a tree—lines crisscrossing, sketching a fate only they could understand.

The difference was, these veins were drawn by Su Qing. Once the candle made uniquely for them burned out, the patterns would vanish, and the memories would cease to exist.

Before long, the “Sleep Incense” took effect. Le Hen slowly closed her eyes, her breathing steadying. Su Qing gently took her right hand with her left and began tracing the patterns.

Within these patterns were the suddenness of mountain rains, the desolation of life and death in blooming and withering flowers, and most of all, the overwhelming joy of summer’s occasional dewdrops.

How resolute must one who loved so recklessly be, to cast away the past without hesitation—just to forget?

Indeed, those who lost their memories—after they awoke, Su Qing would direct them elsewhere, letting them start anew. As for the consequences of their sudden disappearance, since they had chosen to forget, it must have been because both parties found it unbearable to continue. Whether they were present or not—what did it matter?

Even if they came asking, Su Qing would only say one thing: “Go find out for yourself!”

If one truly cares for another and refuses to let go, they would move heaven and earth to bring them back. If they don’t, then perhaps the love wasn’t deep enough—let alone hatred. It’s more like avoidance, an unwillingness to face it.

“Aunt Su Qing, she’s so pitiful!”

Jiu Jiu had been by Su Qing’s side for thousands of years and understood a little about the patterns on the candles. On summer days when rain occasionally fell, there might still be some lingering hope.

Su Qing glanced at Le Hen, then at Jiu Jiu, who was resting her chin on her hands and watching her. Her eyes held a chill, like the evening rain and cold wind, giving her a distant, aloof air.

“If we don’t do this, she’ll be even more pitiful!”

Jiu Jiu stared at the nearly burnt-out candle, her round eyes wide as she nodded, though she didn’t fully understand.

The black silk fluttered slightly in the breeze as purple osmanthus blossoms danced in the courtyard, carrying a faint fragrance. The candle, aided by the wind, burned its last tear. Jiu Jiu tidied everything up, gathered the black silk, and headed toward the eastern side of the yard.

A short while later, the woman on the couch slowly opened her eyes and looked at Su Qing in surprise.

“Where is this?”

Su Qing smiled faintly, a cool breeze passing through her gaze. “You wandered into my home, young lady. You were exhausted, so you rested for a while.”

Le Hen sat up slowly, suddenly realizing she couldn’t remember where she had come from. “Where did I come from?”

Su Qing picked up her teacup and took a sip. “A small town to the southeast.”

The fox spirit’s eyes lit up with understanding, and she quickly thanked her before leaving.

Su Qing’s lips curled into a faint smile. Every time she redirected someone’s path, she had to trouble that reckless young man. This time, he’d have to run from the west to the east—enough to tire him out.

Just as she was feeling a little guilty about it, Jiu Jiu suddenly came running up to her, panting heavily. “Brother Qing Shi is here again! It just rained a little, and he got all wet!”

Su Qing set down her teacup and glanced at the sky. The corridors of the courtyard stretched in all directions, making it hard to notice the rain. If not for the droplets under the eaves, no one would have known it had rained at all.

But she had already refused him so many times. He came every now and then, and she truly couldn’t figure him out.

“Let him in.”

Su Qing didn’t dislike him, but she didn’t particularly like him either. However, Jiu Jiu adored Mu Qing Shi because he was kind to everyone.

And Jiu Jiu had been bullied before.

So Su Qing thought, since Jiu Jiu liked him, she might as well let him in to cheer her up. Children always loved warm, older brother figures.

But Su Qing felt that Mu Qing Shi wasn’t actually that kind of person. His eyes were too deep, impossible to see through. Everyone could only perceive the surface—what lay beneath was unclear, even to her.