The heart of the city beats heavily in the dusk. The glass curtain walls of skyscrapers reflect the last dark red of the setting sun, and the traffic weaves a river of light on the crisscrossing viaducts. The breathing of modern cities is mechanical and regular, like a huge clock running with precision.
I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window on the 37th floor, holding a cup of green tea that had already cooled down. Outside the window is bustling, but inside the window is silence. A face is reflected on the glass, which is both familiar and unfamiliar - the brows are cold, the skin is so fair that it is almost transparent, and there is a thousand years hidden in the eyes that even I cannot decipher. Millennium. This word rolls on the tip of my tongue, carrying the bitterness and wear and tear of time. The lake outside the window that I have guarded for twelve centuries has long been filled in and a central business district has been built. There is only a faint trace of water veins in the deepest underground, like a forgotten pulse, struggling in the reinforced concrete cage.
My name is Qinglian. A water monster, a being that should not exist in this era.
In my first life, I met him in the palace of the late Qing Dynasty. He is a powerful prince, and I am a lonely shadow in the lake. He said he wanted to marry me, but he was defeated by the conflicts in the court and the clan's etiquette. On his wedding day, I sank to the bottom of the lake, thinking this would be eternity.
In the second life, I found him in the flames of the Republic of China. He became a scholar, gentle and elegant, but he had forgotten me. He married a well-matched lady, and I became a swaying narcissus outside his study window. Until the flames of war consumed everything, he grabbed my hand in the ruins and asked, "Have we ever met?"
Now, the third life.
