Moonlit Reunion

At the age of six, the little princess Li Yuanzhen got lost in the mountains behind the Mangshan Palace.

The deep mountains at night were filled with terrifying sounds—rustling in the grass that made it seem as though something was about to leap out, and faint howls of wild beasts. The wind whistled through the gaps in the leaves, wailing like human sobs. The darkness was thick, and the shapes of branches and bushes resembled monstrous claws, their black shadows swaying ominously in the wind. It was utterly frightening.

Li Yuanzhen covered her mouth, stumbling through the forest, her eyes wide with fear as she scanned the surrounding darkness. She was too scared to even cry aloud. Trembling, she called softly for her mother and father, but there were only the terrifying shadows around her—no familiar figures in sight.

The mountain path was uneven, and little Yuanzhen tripped over a protruding tree root, falling hard to the ground. The sharp pain in her knees made her whimper quietly.

Just then, she saw him.

A handsome man dressed in white robes that seemed to glow in the darkness. He stood behind a tree, hesitating as he watched her from a distance, not approaching.

Having wandered alone in the mountains for so long, Yuanzhen was utterly terrified. The moment she saw another person, she scrambled to her feet and rushed toward him, throwing herself into the arms of the white-robed man and bursting into loud sobs.

"I want to go home! I want my mother and father!"

The man let her cling to him for a while, looking somewhat at a loss. When she finally cried herself weak and began to slide to the ground, he finally reached out and picked her up.

Holding her, he walked deeper into the mountains. Before long, Yuanzhen spotted a tree in the forest—one that stood out vividly, covered in white blossoms as pure as the man’s robes. A beam of moonlight shone directly upon it, and Yuanzhen stared in awe, momentarily forgetting her tears.

Only when the man set her down on a low-hanging branch did she snap out of her daze. Refusing to let go, she clung tightly to his neck, burying her face against his chest like a frightened, trembling puppy.

Helpless, the man had no choice but to sit on the branch himself, settling her onto his lap.

He remained silent, yet his presence was warm and comforting, giving Yuanzhen a sense of safety. As she gradually relaxed, she tried speaking to him—only to realize he couldn’t speak. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Instead, he gently stroked her head and smiled at her.

Later, wild beasts from the mountains passed nearby, drawn by the scent of humans. They lingered in the darkness, their glowing green eyes and massive forms far larger than ordinary animals making Yuanzhen tense with fear. She clung tighter to the white-robed man, afraid the beasts would suddenly pounce. But with a mere wave of his sleeve, a sudden gust of wind swept through the mountains, and the creatures fled in fright.

That entire night, the man held her close, soothing her forehead whenever she grew frightened or uneasy.Later, she fell asleep. When she woke again, the palace maids attending to her had arrived with soldiers, all relieved that she was unharmed. But Li Yuanzhen only searched everywhere for that man—he was gone. The only thing left was the white tea tree she had leaned against upon waking, still covered in white blossoms, its delicate petals scattered all over her.

"I want to move this tree back to the palace and plant it there!" declared the six-year-old princess, a small white tea flower adorning her head.

Though she was a child, she already knew many things. She thought that if she moved this tea tree back, she might see her savior again. As she grew older, she began to wonder if that man wasn’t human at all—perhaps he was an immortal, a demon, or even a mountain spirit. But no matter what he was, she longed to see him again.

Over the years, Li Yuanzhen took great care of this white tea tree. Every year, she watched it bloom in full, and on the nights it flowered, she would linger beneath it. Sometimes, in a fleeting moment, she thought she glimpsed a white figure standing beneath the tree, so close to her—only to realize it was just her imagination. There was never anyone else there but herself.

This year marked the tenth. The white tea tree was about to bloom again, its tiny buds just beginning to show. Just yesterday, Li Yuanzhen had thought that this year’s blossoms might be even more abundant. Yet overnight, the tree withered and died.

Leading Wu Zhen to the front of the princess’s hall, Li Yuanzhen stared blankly at the tree’s blackened, lifeless leaves. Her eyes stung again as she gently stroked the trunk.

A row of trembling palace maids stood beneath the eaves, watching the scene in fearful silence, barely daring to breathe. The little princess’s fury this morning had been terrifying, and the memory of it still lingered. None of them wanted to provoke her temper again.

As for Wu Zhen, she crossed her arms, clicking her tongue inwardly as her gaze fixed on a tea tree branch beside her niece. Leaning against it was a faint, ethereal figure—a man in white robes, looking utterly pitiful.

Li Yuanzhen gazed sorrowfully at the withered branches, while the man beside her watched her intently.

Wu Zhen suddenly exhaled, a wisp of mist drifting into the hazy form of the white-clad man. Only then did he notice her, his expression flickering with surprise before he managed a weak nod in greeting.

Wu Zhen studied him for a long moment. She had visited the princess’s hall several times before and had sensed the tree’s faint spiritual energy, but she had never detected this man’s presence. This was the first time she had seen him—likely because he was too severely injured to return to the white tea tree he had once inhabited, making him visible to her now.

This man, to be precise, was a parasitic spirit. Unlike demons or ghosts, parasitic spirits were born from and bound to specific objects—usually those with strong spiritual resonance, such as paintings, calligraphy, paper, or brushes. Wu Zhen had even encountered spirits inhabiting combs, mirrors, and bowls. But a spirit born from a plant? This was a first.

To develop sentience and take human form was a rare fortune. Yet, judging by his current state—his essence depleted, his vitality fading—he wouldn’t last much longer. The death of the white tea tree he had once inhabited was proof of that.Spirit-attached entities resemble demons in form, but they are far more fragile. Before cultivating a physical body, they cannot frequently leave the object they inhabit. Manifesting for too long causes increasing damage—the longer they remain, the greater the toll.

This spirit-attached entity was on the verge of burning out.

He likely knew it himself, which was why he still sat there, watching Li Yuanzhen intently despite his condition. He reached out to touch her forehead, but Li Yuanzhen could neither feel nor see him. Unaware, she merely brushed past his hand and turned to Wu Zhen with anxious hope. "Auntie, do you have any ideas? You know so many people—maybe you can help me find someone skilled in treating plants?"

Wu Zhen guessed that her niece’s true concern wasn’t the white tea tree but the spirit-attached man.

Seeing Wu Zhen remain silent, Li Yuanzhen’s expression gradually dimmed. Suddenly, Wu Zhen stepped forward and flicked her forehead, sighing in reluctant surrender. "Fine. Who told me my little Yuanzhen is my precious niece? I’ll find a way to save this tree by tomorrow."

Li Yuanzhen froze, then leaped up in delight, clinging to her arm. "Really?! Auntie, you really can save it?!"

Wu Zhen chuckled and ruffled her hair. "Of course. For now, rest easy and get some sleep. Look at your eyes—have someone soothe them before they’re ruined from crying. By tomorrow, I’ll make sure you get your wish."

Wu Zhen always kept her word. Her tone was firm and confident, the kind that made anyone believe her without question. Li Yuanzhen immediately felt reassured.

"Alright! I’ll wait for you tomorrow, Auntie!"

Wu Zhen left the palace and headed straight for the East Market. After a brief search, she spotted her target under a tree. The man wore coarse clothing, his aged appearance resembling a gnarled tree root. A small table stood before him, bearing a tattered banner with four characters: "Half-Immortal Diviner."

"Shengun."

Wu Zhen tossed down a gold ingot. "Ran into trouble. Need your advice."

This "charlatan"—one of the two deputies of the Cat Official in the Demon Market—begged in the Demon Market by night and told fortunes in the East Market by day. Today, he’d taken the form of an old man and had just completed his first reading, earning ten copper coins.

He eyed the hefty gold ingot on the table and said, "I only do divinations. I don’t solve other problems."

Wu Zhen smirked. "You think I won’t hit you in broad daylight?"

Shengun: ...Should’ve taken the form of a pretty youth today. Maybe the Cat Official would’ve gone easier on me.

"Ahem." Shengun coughed, discreetly pocketing the gold, and replied amiably, "Ask away, Cat Official."

Wu Zhen: "A spirit-attached entity is about to dissipate. Any way to save it?"

Shengun: "A spirit-attached entity? That’s a tough one."

Wu Zhen: "If it weren’t tough, I wouldn’t be here asking you, Wuzi Shu . Aren’t you the legendary Heavenly Book? Is there anything in this world you don’t know?" Rarely one to flatter, Wu Zhen offered praise—though her dark, piercing gaze made it clear that failure to deliver would have consequences.

Shengun: "...Hold on, let me check. There might be a way." Sweating under the pressure, he pulled out his blank-paged "Heavenly Book."Mei Si had been sitting in his room all day. He no longer picked up his brush to paint, merely staring blankly at the spread-out painting on the table. After the initial shock and disbelief, his heart was now filled with determination. He had servants light many lamps and sat solemnly before the painting, placing a sword in front of him as he gazed motionlessly at the artwork.

When he woke up this morning, he discovered that the painting he had completed yesterday had changed. Mei Si clearly remembered that the Evil Spirits he had painted the previous day were majestic and vivid, riding the wind and clouds. Yet when he looked again in the morning, the Evil Spirits in the painting all appeared dejected, as if they had lost a fight. He even distinctly saw that one of them had lost a hand!

This was a painting! One he had painted with his own hands! How could a Ghost Monster he painted yesterday lose a hand today? The changes were so drastic that it might as well be an entirely different painting, yet the brushstrokes and forms were all familiar—it was undoubtedly his work.

Mei Si refused to believe he had misremembered. He had already found it strange when dozens of previously painted ghosts inexplicably disappeared, and now this transformation had occurred. He couldn't help but suspect that there was something inexplicable at play here.

For example—real ghosts.

Mei Si enjoyed painting Ghost Monsters and firmly believed in the existence of Non-human entities. But this was the first time since birth that he had personally experienced something supernatural. He wasn't as excited as he had once imagined he would be—instead, he was filled with worry. If such things truly existed and had appeared near him, could they harm his family and friends?

Not daring to share his suspicions with anyone, Mei Si could only decide to stay awake tonight, keeping watch over this painting. If Evil Spirits truly existed, he would use his sword to destroy the artwork. Even if his own painting could summon such creatures, he would absolutely deal with them himself!