When Lian Qiao opened her eyes again, she was lying on her back in the middle of a flower bed.
And not just any flower bed.
The Peach Blossom Courtyard, nestled beneath the Grand Pavilion, where no student dared nap because Master Bai once accidentally summoned a flaming chicken beast here during a failed cooking spell.
So naturally, Qiao sat up and whispered, "I'm home?"
A soft breeze blew through the petals, scattering them like shy butterflies. Everything smelled sweet and familiar — peach blossoms in bloom, scroll ink from the nearby library, the faint tang of dumplings from the kitchen dome.
And yet... the air tasted different.
Like she had returned from somewhere that didn't exist on the celestial map.
The Eastern Sky.
She blinked, the memory rushing back — the cold silence, the towering temple, and the immortal's arms wrapped around her like armor and ice.
Mo Yujin.
She touched her cheek instinctively, as if checking if she had imagined it. But no—she hadn't. Her robes still held a faint trace of snow-smoke. And her soul? It felt… shifted. Like something inside her had heard an ancient bell and hadn't stopped ringing.
Then—
"QIAO'ER!"
The shriek of doom.
From behind a rose trellis came barreling a flurry of plum-colored sleeves and disheveled white hair: Master Bai, the Peach Blossom Sect's most irresponsible elder.
He dropped to his knees beside her with the dramatics of an actor who had missed his stage cue.
"You reckless, star-kissed brat! I thought I'd have to rewrite your fate scroll myself!" He yanked her into a hug so tight it knocked the wind out of her.
"I'm fine!" Qiao wheezed.
"I knew I should have added tethering spells to your training boots," he muttered into her hair. "But nooo, you had to leap mid-snack like a flying dumpling!"
"I didn't mean to land in the Eastern Sky!"
Master Bai froze.
He pulled back, eyes wide. "Wait. You know where you landed?"
Qiao nodded. "There was this giant temple. The sky was quiet. Everything was too clean. And… and he caught me."
Master Bai paled. "He?"
Qiao hesitated. "Tall. Black robes. Eyes like... uh, divine punishment."
His jaw dropped. "You met Mo Yujin?!"
The wind stopped.
Birds paused in midair.
A squirrel fainted off a tree.
Qiao blinked. "Is that bad?"
"BAD?" Master Bai sputtered. "That's the God of War, the storm that never broke, the immortal who hasn't spoken to another soul in centuries unless to threaten or judge them! You could've been sealed into a soul bottle!"
"Well... he didn't?" she offered weakly.
Master Bai collapsed onto the ground, dramatically.
"I need another bottle," he sighed.
🌠 Somewhere high above, in the Eastern Sky...
Mo Yujin stood before a floating jade mirror — silent, still, unreadable.
Within the mirror was a glowing sigil: a thin red thread.
Tethered.
To her.
He had anchored it with the faintest sliver of divine intent — something no one would notice unless they were looking directly through a realm mirror with the sight of an ancient.
The thread shimmered with a soft, stubborn light.
Alive.
And undeniably… curious.
🌸 Back in Peach Blossom Sect
Later that evening, Qiao sat under her favorite tree — the oldest peach blossom that had bloomed since the era of the Dragon Lords. Its branches swayed gently as she stared up at the sky, thinking.
Was it just a fall?
A mistake?
Or something more?
She remembered the way the sky had cracked. The ripple of divine law. The way Mo Yujin had looked at her — like she didn't belong in this world, and yet... like he'd been waiting for something exactly like her to fall into it.
She reached up and plucked a blossom from the tree, holding it gently between her fingers.
"Why me?" she whispered.
The wind stirred, rustling the petals.
And far away, in a temple of silence and stone, a man watched the stars and whispered to no one:
"Why her?"