She recognized the answer hidden in that bowl of osmanthus sweet soup.
Prince Li, the regent, never showed interest in women, yet he took a sword meant for a half-dead, disgraced emperor, fed him medicine for a year, and prepared a whole table of sweet-and-sour pork ribs for him. The entire court wondered what Prince Li was after. Only she watched the way he held his chopsticks, confirming it inch by inch: that was unmistakably the person who had raised her from childhood.
And that person should have died in the battle between immortals and demons two hundred years ago.
Master, you changed your face, your name, and your identity, but you couldn't change how much you couldn't bear to leave me. Ten thousand years ago, she guarded her for a hundred years, nurturing a little silver lotus, nearly torn apart by fierce winds, until it became a goddess who could stand on her own. To save her, she overturned the River of Forgetfulness, went mad from cultivation, and developed a heart demon. She protected her through three lifetimes.
Later, when she was trapped by a curse from an evil god, she accompanied her through six little worlds, forgetting all their past lives.
She pursued her through six lifetimes.
In the modern world, she was a forensic specialist who quietly shielded her from a splash of tea. In ancient times, she was a princess with a child's mind who, though trembling with cold, put a hand warmer into her arms. In the workplace, she was a strict mentor who gave all her tenderness to the newly hired woman. In the Republican era, she was a newspaper owner who pulled her into her arms as bullets flew. In the apocalypse, she was the leader of a base who always saved the safest spot for her. She never once remembered her, yet instinctively gave her every favor. On the day of the final battle, she sealed her heart demon and burned up her soul to bring peace to the three realms. She left behind not even a glimpse of her retreating figure.
She kept watch for a thousand years in a little pavilion by the Sea of Chaos, guarding that little golden lotus, just as she had once protected the little silver lotus.
When the first lotus bloomed, the wind carried the words she had waited far too long to hear: I'm back.
