Mystic Music Across Three Lives, a Broken Zither String

Misty rain falls over green hills and settles in one's heart; cold waters wind through secluded paths.

The desolate maple grove remains unseen, while autumn leaves alone stain the dust.

“Master, you still remember Zixuan,” Zixuan murmured in his arms. “Master, didn't you promise you'd never leave me?” She was still smiling, but tears welled in her eyes. “Master, will you really never leave again?”

Wuxian did not answer. Instead, he asked, “When did you realize?” He furrowed his brow, his voice still calm.

Zixuan looked at Wuxian, a bitter smile on her lips. “How could I not recognize the things Master makes? How could I not recognize the paintings Master paints? I never played the Wuxian zither in front of Zihan, so how could he have known about it?” Zixuan lifted her eyes to Wuxian and traced his features with her fingers. “Besides, Zihan is Zihan, and Wuxian is Wuxian. I love Wuxian, so how could I mistake one for the other just because they look alike?” She blinked, but could not hide the sorrow in her eyes. “Master, why did you come here?”

Wuxian smiled gently and called her, “Xuan'er.”