Luck was on her side. It wasn’t completely dark yet, and as soon as she stepped outside, she ran into a few farmers who were lighting a fire. They kindly gave her some firewood and a few sweet potatoes.
Xu Songhe didn’t dare start a fire too close to the temple. Instead, she found a taller tree that could shelter her from the falling snow. After setting down the wood, she hurried back inside to get Little White.
“Little White?”
She stopped at the entrance. The temple was empty, save for a single man standing with his back to her, his hands clasped behind him as he faced the statue.
Hearing her voice, he turned, his lips curling into a faint smile. “Gone.”
“Gone?” Xu Songhe looked around, but the snow-white figure was nowhere in sight.
“Where did it go?” she asked, her voice trembling with anxiety.
“How should I know?” Qi Wuyang gave a mischievous grin, gesturing with his chin toward the overturned and ransacked offering table.
The fruit on the table was covered in dust, clearly having been knocked to the ground and then haphazardly piled back up.
“It knocked over the plate and got kicked out,” Qi Wuyang said, spreading his hands in a gesture of helpless annoyance. “By now, its body is probably frozen stiff.”
“…”
Xu Songhe had no time for his nonsense. She spun on her heel and ran outside. The snow on the ground wasn’t deep, and as she stepped out, a thin spray of snow kicked up around her feet.
“Little White! Little White!”
But how could a rabbit understand human words? Her calls were scattered by the cold wind. She paced through the snow, her eyes searching every corner.
Though the snow wasn’t heavy, Little White was so small—how could it possibly survive?
“Seems you’re still not calling loud enough. Why isn’t it paying you any attention?”
The hem of a light robe fluttered through the bushes. Xu Songhe turned to find his gaze fixed on her.
“But I’m already shouting as loud as I can,” she said, her voice filled with anxiety and helplessness.
What if he’s right? What if all that’s left to find is a frozen body?
Qi Wuyang’s gaze swept over her face with feigned indifference.
He chuckled. “Walk a little further away. Then it will hear you.”
Xu Songhe stared at him suspiciously. Half-doubting him, she took a few steps forward. Just as she was about to speak, a rustling sound came from behind her.
The young man leaned down, reaching into the low bushes. A small, white figure appeared in his hand.
The rabbit kicked its hind legs vigorously, but it seemed too cold to muster any real strength. After a couple of weak kicks, it wilted in his hand.
Its ruby-red eyes gazed at her, looking utterly pitiful.
Qi Wuyang frowned, already regretting his actions.
Why did I have to touch that dirty, furry rabbit? he wondered. If she couldn’t find it, I should have just let it freeze.
“Little White! Thank goodness you’re okay…”
Before Xu Songhe’s heart could settle, the hand holding the rabbit’s ear abruptly let go. She gasped and lunged forward, cradling the small animal in her arms.
“You can’t run off like that again,” she murmured, stroking its fur to soothe it.
Her heart was still pounding. “What would I have done if I couldn’t find you?”
She looked up to see the “culprit” who had nearly dropped her pet. Qi Wuyang was staring at his empty palm with a look of utter disgust.
Holding the rabbit close, Xu Songhe walked up to him, a smile playing on her lips. “Young Master, I know where you can wash your hands.”
***
Snap!
A bright fire crackled to life, casting a warm, red glow over the snow.
Xu Songhe skewered a sweet potato on a wooden stick and held it over the flames to roast.
The rabbit, still shaken from earlier, poked its head out from her embrace every now and then. Feeling safe at last, its matted fur gradually began to smooth out.
[Favorability increased by five, now reaching twenty. Congratulations, Host, you have unlocked a new plotline.]
Huh? An unexpected reward?
Oh, right. Xu Songhe remembered the System had mentioned at the very beginning that favorability could be exchanged for items.
“But didn’t you say all the plotlines would change after my arrival?” she questioned, finding the System’s words contradictory. “Don’t tell me about the plot. Instead, give me some practical items. At least then I won’t be such a mess the next time I encounter a demon.”
The System ignored her completely, continuing as if reading from a script: [Please select a subject for research. I will reveal his past to you.]
Fine, if it insists.
Xu Songhe didn’t hesitate. She looked at the man beside her. A thin veil of smoke separated them, and his figure seemed to shift and blur within the haze, as if he had a thousand different faces. The only constant was his eyes—bottomless and deep.
She had always thought those eyes were breathtakingly beautiful. It was as if the entire starry sky flowed within them, possessing a magic that held her gaze the moment their eyes met.
“Him! I can’t exactly know nothing about my love interest, can I?”
The next second, a smooth, glass-like object landed in her palm.
[This is a childhood memory fragment of your future husband, Qi Wuyang. Please keep it safe, Host.]
This clumsy System! How could it just give it to me like this?
Xu Songhe stole a guilty glance at the man beside her. After confirming he wasn’t looking, she feigned innocence and tucked the fragment into her sleeve.
When she looked up, she found those beautiful eyes already fixed on her.
Her heart skipped a beat. She beamed at him. “Young Master, thank you for earlier.”
Qi Wuyang withdrew his gaze, casually looking elsewhere. “A pity. If you hadn’t reacted so quickly, I would have crushed it to death long ago.”
“…”
“What a sharp-tongued softie,” Xu Songhe muttered under her breath.
But he heard her. “What’s a ‘sharp-tongued softie’?”
Startled that he had caught her comment, Xu Songhe hesitated for a moment, her eyes curving into a smile. “It’s for someone like you, Young Master. Someone who is clearly kind-hearted but always says things opposite to what he’s truly feeling after helping others.”
Qi Wuyang’s expression turned thoughtful as he paused for a moment, then he scoffed. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken.”
The roasted sweet potato’s skin gradually darkened, filling the air with a sweet, fragrant aroma.
Xu Songhe, her arms aching, took the cooked potato off its wooden stick.
“Young Master, would you like some?”
She held out half of the broken-off sweet potato. The moonlight reflected in her dark eyes, making them look as if they were filled with stars.
Steam still rose from the freshly roasted potato. Its caramelized skin draped against the back of her hand. Any passerby, if they had seen her now, would have drooled at the tempting scent.
Yet Qi Wuyang didn’t even bother to open his eyes. He was leaning against a tree with his hands pillowing his head, his eyes half-closed. It was obvious he wasn’t asleep, yet he deliberately ignored her.
Xu Songhe didn’t press him for an answer. Instead, she broke off a small piece of her own half and held it out to the rabbit’s mouth.
Little White turned its head away, seemingly uninterested.
“I don’t know where to find carrots for you in this weather,” Xu Songhe sighed, gently petting its head. “If you don’t eat this, you’ll have nothing to eat at all.”
Strangely, as if Little White had understood her words, it turned its head back after a moment. It nibbled on the sweet potato, leaving behind a few tiny bite marks.
Xu Songhe picked it up. She glanced at the man beside her, who still sat with his eyes closed.
“Young Master,” she said softly, “the wind is cold. I’m going inside with Little White now.”
He didn’t reply.
As her footsteps faded into the distance, the world seemed to fall completely silent, leaving only the rustle of wind through the leaves.
After an unknown amount of time, Qi Wuyang opened his eyes. His snow-dusted eyelashes lowered, and his gaze fell on a large leaf on the ground, wrapped into a strange, bulky shape.
A gentle breeze blew, lifting a corner of the leaf. He started to look away, then brought his gaze back. His brow twitched slightly.
Tucked securely inside the leaf was half of a roasted sweet potato. It wasn’t touched by a single speck of dust. As he took it in his hand, a faint warmth seeped through the leaf and into his palm.
***
“System, how do I use the fragment?”
Xu Songhe hid behind the statue. After confirming no one else was around, she set Little White aside and whispered her question.
“Touch it with your palm for five seconds,” the System replied. “Host, please confirm there is no one nearby before proceeding.”
She placed her hand on the fragment and glanced dismissively at the rabbit. “No one’s here. Little White isn’t a person.”
A faint light emanated from the fragment. As Xu Songhe stared intently, the System’s voice spoke again: [Two memory modes available: Observer and Immersive. Please choose, Host.]
Immersive sounded dangerous.
She was a woman who couldn’t even harm a chicken—if she got transported into the memory and ran into trouble, she’d be doomed.
“I choose observer.”
After a moment, the fragment’s surface blurred. Several dark figures emerged, their features gradually sharpening into clear faces.
It was a large group of people in what looked like a village.
The fragment’s focus then narrowed onto two specific figures.
A woman led a young boy by the hand. Everywhere they passed, plants withered and died. Blood splattered the ground, marking the path where lifeless bodies lay scattered among fallen branches.
The woman brought him to a well. She gripped his hand so hard her fingers left marks on the back of his.
The boy clung to the hem of her robes, tears streaming down his face. “Mother, I won’t leave… Mother, don’t make me leave. Everyone is dead. What’s the point of me being alive?”
Xu Songhe’s eyes widened, and her breath caught in her throat.
I’ve seen this face before,she thought.
It was the boy at the gate when the Flowing Cloud Sect had abducted her. A face that beautiful could only belong to him.
“Be good,” the woman, whom the boy called Mother, said as she stroked his hair. Upon closer inspection, tears were brimming in her own eyes. “Hide inside. No matter what you hear, do not come out, all right?”
Her voice was so gentle that no one could possibly refuse her. Not even this trembling boy.
The boy took one last look at his mother before the shadows swallowed him whole, merging him with the darkness of the narrow well.
The scene shifted, the view focusing on the people and corpses outside. The dead lay still, while the living raised their weapons, shouting vows to fight to the death, to repel the invaders, and to avenge their fallen kin.
Who was invading their land? Who had slaughtered their people?
What became of the boy trapped alone at the bottom of the well? He must have been terrified, utterly hopeless.
In the darkness, a figure huddled with knees drawn tight, curled into a small ball. A pair of fluffy ears sprouted from his head.
A wind carrying snowflakes swept in. Xu Songhe raised her eyes, and for a moment, the image of the boy from the memory overlapped with the figure before her. The fox ears vanished the instant they merged.
The boy looked down, his expression unreadable. The closed door kept the chill at bay. He curved his lips into a smile, but his eyes remained cold.
“What are you looking at?”