Chapter 45

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Chapter 45: Title

"Why has this cat stopped fleeing?" Yang Xingyu inquired with curiosity. "Wasn’t it evading us earlier?"

"Perhaps it’s a bully who fears the strong, recognizing Daoist Priest Li’s formidable nature," Bai Ye quipped from the sidelines.

Li Canghai approached, crouched, and seized the plump feline by its nape.

The rotund creature hung motionless in his grasp, held firmly by the scruff of its neck—the very grip that dictated its fate.

"This creature possesses nascent wisdom," Li Canghai declared, lifting the cat to eye level and studying its jade-green gaze intently. "Not yet a spirit, but not wholly ordinary."

"How do you discern this, Daoist Priest Li?" Hu Mei edged closer, prodding the orange cat’s rounded belly with playful fingers. "To my senses, it seems merely a common house cat."

The feline remained statue-still beneath her ministrations, wisely resisting the urge to squirm.

"An intuition beyond words," came the measured reply after a contemplative pause.

The group exchanged meaningful glances. None could recall Daoist Priest Li’s instincts ever faltering. If he claimed the beast harbored spiritual potential, it must be so.

"Then what’s our course?" Yang Xingyu frowned, stroking his chin. "Protocol demands we seize confirmed spirits, but this… this ambiguous state…"

Li Canghai’s gaze shifted to Lan Xin, whose trembling hands betrayed her dread of separation from the creature.

"Let the beast choose its path."

"Should it seek spiritual ascension," the daoist continued, lowering the cat to the ground, "that journey spans decades."

The orange tabby lingered uncertainly near Li Canghai’s boots before tentatively extending a paw. When no objection came, it bounded toward Lan Xin in a blur of marmalade fur.

Nuzzling its owner’s ankles with uncharacteristic devotion, the creature purred like a poorly tuned lute.

"It appears the choice is made," Li Canghai observed.

Lan Xin’s eyes misted as she regarded her companion. Though the feline often wore indifference like royal robes, this moment revealed its true attachment.

"I’ll cherish Fatty always," she vowed, gratitude overflowing toward the daoist who’d spared their bond.

"But protocol…" Yang Xingyu wavered, duty warring with compassion. "Even spiritually-tinged beasts fall under Special Bureau jurisdiction. Should complications arise…"

"This creature belongs with its bonded keeper," Li Canghai interposed with finality. "Our mandate concerns confirmed spirits. This case lies beyond those parameters."

"True enough," Yang Xingyu conceded, his grin turning impish as he observed the plump feline now cradled in Lan Xin’s arms. "Still, we’ll require adoption documentation. Bureau clerks demand proper paperwork, lest our report read like tavern gossip."

"I’ll oversee the records," Bai Ye volunteered.

Hu Mei approached, fingertips brushing the cat’s crown. The creature endured the touch with regal tolerance, wisely permitting the indignity to preserve its home.

"Mind his diet," the woman cautioned, kneading the cat’s alarmingly dense musculature. "When Daoist Priest Li senses spiritual potential, it’s never mistaken. This lump may yet transcend feline limitations."

"Truly?" Lan Xin’s voice quivered with hopeful awe, certain her lifelong companion meant no harm.

"Brother Leng often remarks," Hu Mei confided, scratching behind compliant ears, "that while Daoist Priest Li’s foresight can’t rival Xiao Tianji’s prophecies, his intuition about spiritual trajectories remains unmatched."

She left unspoken the whispered theories—how Li Canghai’s unique constitution and enlightenment before the Ancient Stone Tablet had forged his extraordinary cultivation. The orange cat blinked slowly, its inscrutable gaze holding secrets of past and future alike.

This physique resonates closely with the heavens and the natural order, granting instincts far keener than those of ordinary people.

"Little Fatty, you must treat your owner properly from now on, understand?" Hu Mei spoke with grave sincerity to the orange cat, earning twin gazes of utter disdain.

Bai Ye produced a registration dossier, addressing Lan Xin, "Miss Lan, please complete the documentation. Oh, and Fatty requires registration as well."

"Register Fatty? He can’t perform writing."

"A paw imprint suffices."

The Special Bureau was systematically archiving all extraordinary individuals, Practitioners, and transformed creatures – precautionary measures to mitigate future incidents.

When Lan Xin finished completing forms, Bai Ye retrieved a specialized document and compact camera. After photographing the feline, he carefully snipped a lock of fur with silver shears.

"Your turn," he nodded to Hu Mei.

"Understood," she responded, extracting a blood collection kit from her satchel.

"MROWWWL!" Fatty’s terrified yowl echoed as he scrambled to escape the tea table.

Bai Ye’s reflexes proved swifter. He recaptured the fugitive, firmly imprinting four paw-shaped stamps on the parchment while pinning squirming limbs.

"I’ve trained with bureau nurses. Phlebotomy’s simple – no need for dramatics," Hu Mei soothed while advancing.

As a half-demon whose cultivation had honed her mind to razor acuity, she’d conducted self-experimentation far more complex than bloodwork. This pampered feline’s panic seemed absurd.

"Allow me." Li Canghai’s palm settled on Fatty’s scruff, instantly stilling the thrashing creature.

The textbook demonstration of "bullying the meek while fearing the formidable" unfolded before them.

Bai Ye examined his claw-raked hand with a sigh, moving to cleanse the wounds. Returning, he observed Hu Mei securing a crimson vial within a biometric case.

The orange tabby now lay limp upon the table, emitting pathetic mewls through half-lidded eyes at Lan Xin.

"Master thespian, this one," Hu Mei remarked dryly, catching Lan Xin’s concerned glance. "Fetch treats, Miss Lan. His hunger act deserves an Oscar."

"Mewmewmewmrow!"

"He demands those restricted snacks you ration," Hu Mei interpreted automatically, then froze under multiple astonished stares. "What? Did I misspeak?"

"You comprehend felinese?!" Yang Xingyu blurted, astonishment unconcealed. "Since when?"

Their constant companionship made this sudden skill implausible.

"I… can?" Hu Mei’s brow furrowed. "This understanding came… abruptly."

Lan Xin’s lingering sense of recognition crystallized upon hearing the name. "Are you… Mei Mei?"

Conceding defeat, Hu Mei dissolved her glamor. Vulpine ears and twin amber tails emerged.

"Hu Mei, at your service," she admitted with chagrined smile.

Their postponed livestream plans (derailed by yesterday’s scandal) suddenly felt trivial.

"It IS you! I’d never have recognized…" Lan Xin’s eyes widened before she tactfully added, "Your streams always featured… different attire."

Yang Xingyu’s snicker escaped containment. Others studied ceiling patterns or floor tiles with sudden intensity.

"Mrrowwll!" Fatty’s indignant yowl protested the shifted attention, glowering at Hu Mei with bottlebrush tail.

“What did Fatty say this time?” Lan Xin inquired with curiosity.

“He said… he claimed…” Hu Mei’s face flushed crimson as she struggled to maintain composure. “He insisted his tail and ears are far more attractive than mine, demanding you stop looking at me.”

The plump creature twitched his ears smugly, swishing his tail like a pompous aristocrat showcasing his finest attributes.

…

“We should return to the hotel tonight and depart for Jiangnan City tomorrow,” Yang Xingyu proposed.

Though originally scheduled to leave that afternoon, Lan Xin’s gesture of gratitude through her family chef’s elaborate feast had delayed their departure until dusk.

“Makes no difference,” Hu Mei replied with an undignified burp.

The train journey from Qiantang City to Jiangnan City lasted barely four hours, bringing them to their destination precisely at noon.

“Planning to stream this time?” Yang Xingyu observed Hu Mei unpacking her broadcasting gear near the ancient painting exhibit.

“Naturally. I’ll keep anyone camera-shy out of frame,” she assured, adjusting her equipment.

Qiao Feiyu immediately edged beyond the lens’ periphery.

“Count me out,” Li Canghai declined with an amused chuckle.

“I’ll be your camera bearer,” Bai Ye volunteered enthusiastically.

Yang Xingyu shrugged. “Our regular viewers expect us together anyway.”

Within Jiangnan City’s ancient quarter:

“Last visit here with Daoist Priest Li, we faced a vengeful spirit that chilled our bones,” Hu Mei recounted.

Yang Xingyu sighed wistfully. “That recorded confrontation looked thrilling. Regret missing it.”

“Thrilling? Without Young Master Leng’s intervention, we’d be haunting those streets ourselves,” she countered darkly.

Bai Ye tilted his head. “I thought the underworld authorities handled such matters?”

“By the time their agents arrived, the crisis had passed – typical post-crisis policing, just like bad action films.” Hu Mei gestured to commence broadcasting.

The stream commenced with Hu Mei’s gothic lolita ensemble commanding attention – black lace cascading over ribboned satin, her magically altered ears fading from ebony to pearl. Li Canghai and Qiao Feiyu flanked her discreetly, the former stern-faced while the latter wore faint amusement, both meticulously avoiding camera range.

【FIRST!!!】

【After eternities, she’s LIVE!】

【Gran, your fave streamer’s back!】

【Beauty filter activated – gothic princess perfection!】

【Predictable Xingyu appearance…salty with envy】

“Today’s broadcast unveils the ‘Immortal in the Painting’ mystery,” Hu Mei announced, gesturing toward the babbling brook behind her. “This authorized field mission investigates the legendary artifact. See that estate ahead? Our stage awaits.”

The camera panned to reveal an elegant courtyard adorned with blue-tiled roofs and white walls.

【This place seems familiar – isn’t that the ancient town in Jiangnan City? I visited there last year!】

【Aaaaah I’m literally standing here right now! Why can’t I spot Mei Mei?】

【Holy crap my house is next door but I just left for downtown QAQ】

The live stream audience buzzed with activity, including numerous Jiangnan City locals.

"The illusion art keeps everyone from noticing us," Hu Mei explained with a playful smile, gesturing at oblivious tourists passing by.

The courtyard’s vermilion gates remained shut, bearing a "Closed for Visitors" sign.

Most structures in this ancient town boasted centuries-old heritage, carefully preserved and restored into a tourist hotspot. Residents often opened their ancestral homes to visitors, offering both day tours and rustic farmstay experiences. Historic inns and opera stages stood preserved between souvenir shops, with film crews frequently shooting period dramas among the cobblestone streets.

"Let me notify the homeowner of our arrival," Yang Xingyu announced, retrieving his phone from a qipao sleeve.

【The property owner… must be loaded】

【The architecture’s distinctly Ming and Qing dynasties style – their ancestors were definitely nobility】

【Is Mei Mei on Special Bureau duty?】

【Probably, though I think her main job is being our pretty mascot *cough*】

【Who actually believes the mascot thing?】

【Blame Xing Ge, not me!】

【Just Xing Ge and Mei Mei today? What if their level 1.5 combat ability faces real danger?】

"Actually, we’ve got backup," Hu Mei confessed, tucking wind-blown hair behind a fox-like ear. "They’re just camera-shy – unlike some attention-loving streamers."

【Wasn’t the red-clad senior discovered through live streaming?】

【Oh! You mean Brother Bai Ye! Been his fan since his paranormal streams before joining the Special Bureau】

【Supernatural phenomenon streams now would be TERRIFYING】

【Literal ghost encounters!】

【Some still try – ghost sightings aren’t that common】

【After the Awakening of Spiritual Energy? Ghosts went extinct! Who still believes that rural legend?】

The door creaked open to reveal a lanky youth in athletic wear, barely twenty. After five minutes of doorframe-leaning contemplation, he finally shut the gate only to spin around and find his courtyard invaded.

"Er… greetings," Wen Qingyan stammered, cheeks flushing crimson.

"Welcome! I’m Hu Mei~"

Behind them, Bai Ye smoothly pivoted the camera – his prior streaming experience making multi-angle shots effortless despite the antique surroundings.

“Could you show us the painting you mentioned?”

“Follow me,” Wen Qingyan nodded in agreement.

“Please tell us more about it as we walk,” Yang Xingyu added, keeping pace beside him.

“This artwork has been preserved through generations of our Wen family. My grandfather safeguarded it for decades until his recent passing. While organizing his belongings, I discovered this beautiful lady painting among his possessions.”

“After consulting experts, it’s believed to originate from the Ming Dynasty. The attire depicted aligns with that period’s fashion.”

“Though it doesn’t hold much monetary value – having been painted by one of our Wen ancestors –”

“We kept it displayed in Grandfather’s study before the Awakening of Spiritual Energy. Days ago, while I was writing there, the painting… awakened.”

“The court maiden stepped right out of the canvas…”

The modest valuation seemed incongruous – Ming Dynasty works in pristine condition often commanded six-figure sums from collectors. Yet considering Wen Qingyan’s affluent neighborhood, financial motives appeared unlikely.

Within the study.

Past an ornamental screen near the entrance hung the beautiful lady painting upon its easel.

The depicted maiden stood gracefully beneath flowering peach branches, her gaze tender yet distant – the longing expression of one anticipating her beloved’s arrival.

“Nothing seems particularly unusual here.”

“The skirt, though…” Li Canghai murmured, his brow creasing as he leaned closer.

All eyes shifted to the flowing white robes where crimson pigments created an ombré effect. Though the artist masterfully captured wind-rippled fabrics, a suspicious darkness marred the gradient – several crimson speckles resembling dried bloodstains interrupted the delicate coloration.

“Those are from when I accidentally bled on it,” Wen Qingyan admitted.

【Holy crap! Whose voice was that? Sounds familiar!】

【Who cares? That velvet tone means he’s gotta be hot!】

【Mei’s mission partner maybe?】

【That painting’s hypnotic – feels like she’s watching us!】

【Wait – ancient paintings don’t have paper this white!】

【+1 All heritage artworks I’ve seen yellow with age. This is sketchy AF.】

The live stream comments drew collective attention.

“The material does appear unusually pristine,” Hu Mei observed, turning to Wen Qingyan. “May I?” At his hesitant nod, she reached out.

Her fingertips met not paper, but something disturbingly pliant.

“Smooth as leather… yet warm like…” She withdrew hastily, pinching her own forearm for reassurance. “It felt like human skin.”

“Your description recalls the legend of Painted Skin,” commented Bai Ye, camera steady on his shoulder. The former supernatural phenomenon streamer recognized the tropes – he’d built his career on such eerie tales.

"Painted Skin, I know that. Didn’t they adapt it into a TV series a few years ago?" Yang Xingyu chimed in.

"But wait, isn’t Painted Skin about demons painting faces onto detached skins?"

"Actually, there’s another version from Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio," Bai Ye explained, his gaze drifting towards the contemplative Wen Qingyan.

"After the incident, I researched relevant folklore," Wen Qingyan said with a weighted exhale.

"In that tale, the canvas itself is human skin. Paint upon it, and the depicted figure awakens. To create living art of peerless beauty, one must procure… exceptional parchment."

"You can’t mean…" Hu Mei’s ears twitched nervously, the story sending shivers down her spine.

The implication was clear – this exquisite beautiful lady painting before them, with its flawless texture, must have been crafted from some snow-skinned beauty’s very flesh. She imagined the victim’s lively smiles and sparkling eyes, now eternally frozen in pigment.

A leaden silence descended upon the room.

"Come on, it’s just folklore!" Yang Xingyu laughed awkwardly, clapping his hands. "We’re probably overinterpreting things!"

"Wen Qingyan," came the pointed question, "when exactly does this painting come alive?"

"Nightfall transforms it. By daylight, it remains mere artwork."

"Then we’ll wait till dusk."

"Hu Mei," Daoist Priest Li’s voice cut through, his spiritual sight tracing the faint Spiritual Energy currents around the painting. "Channel spiritual energy into it."

"Me?" The fox-eared woman blinked, noticing her proximity to the unsettling artwork. "How much?"

A simple nod from the Daoist.

"Fine," she sighed, extending trembling fingers. "But you’d better pull me out if something goes wrong!"

【Ahh! Let me do it instead!】

【This is getting intense!】

【Look! Her energy glows white!】

【Why isn’t the painting reacting?】

【Screen’s frozen!】

【Blinding light!!】

【Did the stream crash?!】

Hu Mei poured spiritual energy steadily, guided only by Daoist Priest Li’s unwavering silence. Suddenly, light erupted – a brilliant flash consuming her vision.

When the radiance faded, she stood alone in an eerily familiar courtyard. Yet the architecture shimmered with unnatural hues, the stones whispering secrets to the wrong shadows.

"An illusion realm?" Her claws unsheathed instinctively as she spun around, finding neither companions nor exit. The once-familiar sky well now yawned like a carnivorous bloom, its proportions subtly distorted.

"Brother Yang?"

"Daoist Priest Li?"

"Bai Ye, Qiao Feiyu? Are you here?" Hu Mei called out repeatedly, yet no answers came.

This must be tied to that cursed painting. She attempted to dispel the illusion surrounding her, but found her magic ineffective. Worse still, the illusion seemed to be warping her own glamour spells.

Her Gothic Lolita dress had vanished completely, replaced by a plain scholar’s robe that draped awkwardly around her frame.

She couldn’t afford to wait. While she remained unharmed, the others might not share her fortune. If this were truly an illusion, their physical bodies must still reside in Wen Qingyan’s study where they’d first gathered.

The study. That became her destination.

Following familiar corridors, she arrived at the study’s sealed door. Her palm met weathered wood, pushing inward only to reveal… an empty guest chamber devoid of personality, furnished with only the barest essentials.

"What trickery is this?" Her brow furrowed as unease crept in. The illusion had corrupted her senses – normally she’d trace spiritual signatures to locate allies. Wait. Spiritual energy! The realization struck like lightning.

She’d nearly forgotten. Gathering concentration, she summoned a spell from her inherited memories – one she’d always struggled to master. Pale blue flames flickered to life in her palm, casting eerie shadows. Fox fire.

When subtlety fails, unleash destruction. She prepared to hurl the unstable flames at their false reality when a figure materialized before her in a ripple of silk.

"Stay your hand." The woman’s antique robes flowed like ink on parchment, her delicate features mirroring the painting’s immortal beauty.

"Who are you?" Hu Mei’s fingers tightened around the flickering fire.

"We met earlier, young mistress. Your spiritual energy freed me from painted captivity." Yun Niang’s smile held centuries of melancholy.

"You trapped us here."

A hesitant nod.

"My companions?"

"Unharmed," came the soothing reply.

"Why?" Suspicion sharpened Hu Mei’s voice.

"Would you hear this humble one’s tale?" Yun Niang’s gaze fell, shoulders slumping at the wariness she encountered.

Hu Mei’s eyelid twitched. "First show me the others."

"Hear my story, and freedom awaits you all."

A threat veiled in courtesy. Hu Mei’s tail bristled beneath illusionary robes. Though unable to gauge Yun Niang’s cultivation level, the spirit’s excessive politeness suggested limited power. Daoist Priest Li alone possessed Tier One mastery – why fear some pigment-born phantom?

"Then speak. If you dare deceive me, I’ll burn this illusion to ashes," Hu Mei conceded reluctantly, feigning a threatening gesture with her hand.

This was pure deception against the spirit before her. Her mastery over fox fire remained precarious—summoning it once already stretched her luck, and attempting it again would truly depend on heaven’s mercy.

Yet Yun Niang remained oblivious to this truth. Hu Mei deliberately amplified her intimidation, ensuring this crafty spirit wouldn’t perceive her vulnerability.

"Understood," Yun Niang responded with a graceful nod.

While Hu Mei merely faced interrupted storytelling, the others found themselves in far more unfortunate circumstances.

Yang Xingyu awoke upon an ancient-style bed draped with silken curtains. Before he could utter a word, movement stirred beyond the gauzy veils.

"Madam has awakened. Shall we prepare your morning ablutions?"

Madam? Yang Xingyu’s mind blanked. Was this elaborate role play, or that damned fox-spawn Hu Mei playing tricks?

His attempt to protest died as alien words flowed from his lips:

"Hmm. Assist me in rising." The languid feminine voice undeniably originated from his own throat.

Holy hells—had prolonged exposure to that cross-dresser actually transformed him?

The curtains parted abruptly, revealing a bowing maid. Like a marionette, Yang Xingyu endured the rituals of washing and dressing. His distorted reflection in the bronze mirror revealed little, yet he noted the servants’ poorly concealed fear.

One moment examining paintings in the study, the next trapped in this nightmare. It didn’t take a genius to deduce he’d been ensnared—he only prayed the others fared better. Given his current half-male, half-female travesty, they likely shared similar plights.

As attendants finished adorning him, another maid announced:

"Madam, the tea ceremony awaits."

"Has my husband returned?" The question escaped unbidden.

"Not yet, Madam."

Yang Xingyu cringed at this unfolding painful past. Though sensing spiritual energy within, it remained frustratingly inaccessible. This body was undeniably his—the gender transformation? Well… Hu Mei’s lessons on illusion’s tricks suddenly felt inadequate.

Meanwhile at the riverside dock, a blue-robed scholar in his thirties disembarked, extending a hand to assist a raven-haired beauty emerging from the cabin. The crimson-gowned woman’s flower-adorned coiffure framed a radiant smile.

Trapped within this foreign flesh, "Yun Niang" mechanically accepted the assistance. Bai Ye fought revulsion while studying the man’s face—a near-perfect replica of Wen Qingyan’s features.

The blinding flash that had rewritten his gender still burned in memory. Fucking illusions, he cursed internally, maintaining outward composure.

A rigid-faced servant in his late twenties approached with stiff courtesy: "Master Wen, Madam awaits your return."

"Come, Yun Niang. The carriage awaits."

"As you wish… Wen Lang." The honeyed words escaped Bai Ye’s lips against his will.

He’d noted the eerie stillness in surrounding faces—all save "Wen Lang" moved with disturbing vitality. Eighty percent certainty: the painting had dragged them into this shared hallucination. With no immediate threats apparent, he’d play along until the puppeteer revealed themselves.

Once they entered the sedan, the burly young man called out, “Raise the sedan!”

Qiao Feiyu, a martial arts practitioner with little experience in illusions, immediately sensed something amiss upon awakening.

Before he could gather his thoughts, he found himself seemingly transformed into a servant for an unfamiliar couple.

This master bore uncanny resemblance to Wen Qingyan, and considering the incident had occurred while viewing a painting, Qiao Feiyu quietly deduced his circumstances. He resolved to observe cautiously—not that he had much choice.

His cultivation remained in the Innate Realm, confined to mere internal energy. As all knew, such energy proved useless against supernatural phenomena.

Only through attaining the true Innate Realm could he transmute this energy into spiritual power, unlocking his body’s meridians to temper his physique and ascend further in martial arts.

Bai Ye found himself escorted back to the Wen family’s sprawling mansion.

“The master returns. And who might this be?” A matronly woman surveyed them with regal disdain. “Have you brought a capital concubine home, husband?”

“She’s Yun Niang. I intend to take her as second madam.”

Disguised as the lady, Yang Xingyu started at the couple’s appearance—their features mirrored Wen Qingyan and the person in the painting unsettlingly.

…

“What happened then? Did you wed this Wen Lang?” Hu Mei perched on the veranda railings, her slipper-clad feet swinging as she addressed the woman beside her.

“I did.”

“And after?”

“Then I died.”

“What?” Hu Mei blinked at the abrupt narrative shift.

“The master couldn’t linger at home. Soon after his departure, the mistress summoned a renowned passing Taoist who declared me a fox spirit.”

“He flayed me alive.”

“Hiss—”

“You’re jesting! You can’t possibly be…” The genuine fox spirit unconsciously clutched her own tail.

“Oh but I am.” Yun Niang’s smile transformed her gentle features with sudden allure. “When heaven’s Spiritual Energy neared depletion, I’d spent three centuries achieving human form. Scarcely had I walked as mortal when Emperor’s geomancer Liu severed the dragon vein.”

“Thus Spiritual Energy vanished entirely. Trapped in human flesh, denied my fox form and magic, only my heart retained residual power.”

“Then why take your skin if he wanted the heart?”

“The mistress had that priest craft my hide into painting paper. When master returned, grief-stricken, he painted my portrait… and carried it ever after.”

Hu Mei grimaced at the perverse artistry. “Through master’s obsession, ‘I’ awakened within the canvas,” Yun Niang continued.

“Impossible!” Hu Mei objected. “No supernatural entities survived the end-time before the Awakening except…”

“Obsession lingered in the paper. When Spiritual Energy resurged, I… revived.” Yun Niang’s form wavered. “Only recently could I leave the painting to meet that youth resembling Wen Lang…”

Hu Mei’s eyes widened in realization. “You’re not Yun Niang at all!”

True survivors of the end-time were either anomalies like the Ghost in Red or ancient practitioners like Leng Xingwen in secret realms. The real Yun Niang had perished—this was but residual yearning given form by returning Spiritual Energy.

“What do you seek?”

“To mend their regret. In death, they longed only for shared twilight years…”

“Dead lovers don’t age!” Hu Mei leapt from the railings. “Illusions can’t resurrect them!”

“Nor do I try—merely grant symbolic closure.” Yun Niang’s silhouette flickered as the illusion-sky darkened.

Snowflakes began spiraling down.

“Snow…” Hu Mei whispered, extending her hand. A crystalline flake dissolved against her fingertip even as she spoke.