[First Encounter — The Incense Rite]
Si Chengjing still remembered the first time he saw Mu Yunzhao.
It was during the solemn Incense Selection Ceremony.
The hall was lit by thousands of candles, sandalwood smoke drifting through the air in pale spirals.
She stood among the candidates, dressed in plain white robes, her expression distant, her steps light—
Like a deity untouched by mortal dust, mistakenly walking among the living.
In that instant, his heart tightened sharply.
And yet—he forced himself to look away.
Because he knew—
Someone like her
was never meant for him.
Soon after, Mu Yunzhao was chosen and brought into the Hall of the Holy Maiden,
residing in a palace specially built for her within the royal grounds.
She became someone to be admired from afar.
He believed that their lives would never cross again—
that their connection would remain nothing more than a fleeting glance during a sacred ritual.
[The Secret Sanctuary]
But fate had already begun weaving another thread.
On the western side of the palace stood an abandoned hall.
Its walls were cracked, its tiles covered in moss—
a place long forgotten, untouched by footsteps.
Yet to Si Chengjing,
it was the only place where he could breathe.
He came here often—writing poetry, painting in silence,
pouring all his frustration, his loneliness, his quiet resentment
into ink and paper.
That night, as usual, he arrived with scrolls in hand.
Moonlight spilled across the ruined floor.
The air was so still that the only sound was the faint scratch of brush against paper.
Then—
A flicker of white passed behind the broken wall.
His heart jolted.
The brush in his hand dragged a jagged line across the page.
He did not believe in ghosts—
yet a chill still ran down his spine.
Instinctively, he murmured a line of scripture under his breath.
The white figure paused.
Then—
a soft, silver-like laugh broke the silence.
Something small dropped at his feet.
A chicken bone.
"…To mistake me for a ghost—how rude."
Her voice carried a teasing warmth.
Under the shifting light of moon and candle,
he finally saw her face.
Si Chengjing's eyes widened in shock.
The woman before him—
was none other than
Mu Yunzhao.
[Threads of Fate]
"I—how are you here?" he stammered.
Mu Yunzhao seemed completely at ease.
She pulled out a chair and sat down, as if the ruin belonged to her.
"The Holy Maiden Hall is suffocating," she said lightly.
"I needed somewhere to breathe. I didn't expect to find the Second Prince here—chanting scriptures to scare ghosts."
His ears flushed red.
"I… was startled."
She laughed again—clear, bright, alive.
Then she picked up one of his scrolls, her gaze settling on the ink still fresh upon it.
A shadow lingers in the deep palace,
A lonely heart faces the moon.
She looked up at him.
"You wrote this?"
He nodded, lowering his eyes.
She read it again, slower this time.
"…It feels real," she said softly.
"Most people here only write pretty words. Few dare to place their heart on paper."
That single sentence—
was like a breeze that swept away years of quiet suffocation.
After a pause, he spoke.
"In this palace… I often feel like I don't belong. My mother's status is low. Though I am a prince, I'm constantly reminded—
not to fight, not to hope for too much."
His voice trembled slightly, though he tried to steady it.
Mu Yunzhao listened without interruption.
When he fell silent, she spoke.
"I became a Holy Maiden candidate not by choice," she said.
"To others, it's glory. To me… it's a cage."
They looked at each other—
and suddenly both smiled.
A quiet understanding passed between them.
They both knew
what it meant to be bound by fate.
[A Promise Beneath the Moon]
That night, they spoke of poetry, of painting—
and of loneliness.
Moonlight draped the ruined hall in a soft glow.
Before leaving, Mu Yunzhao turned, half teasing—
"This place… will be our secret from now on."
Something stirred in Si Chengjing's chest.
From that moment on,
the abandoned hall was no longer a place to escape reality—
but the only place
they shared.
Days later, she brought him a scroll.
"If you love poetry," she said, placing it on the table,
"I tried writing one too."
Her handwriting was elegant, though still unpolished—
her emotions raw, sincere.
He read it… and laughed softly.
"Your writing is more beautiful than my poetry."
She flushed, feigning annoyance.
"You're supposed to critique the poem, not tease me."
That was the first moment—
his guard fell.
One night, as he wrote, she held a candle beside him.
"You always write of loneliness," she said.
"Because the world is rarely kind," he replied.
She moved the candle closer, letting the light fall across his face.
Then, quietly—
"If you feel alone…
then let me be the one who lights your path for life."
He froze.
For the first time—
he wanted to reach out.
And he did.
[Love Takes Root]
Summer nights hummed with insects.
She sat on the stone steps, playing a leaf like a flute.
He listened.
Peace settled over him.
"If one day I am no longer a Holy Maiden…" she whispered,
"would you come away with me? Somewhere beyond all this?"
He didn't answer.
He only reached out—
and gently held her hand.
She didn't pull away.
Instead, she smiled—
tears shimmering in her eyes.
In that moment, she knew—
He was the one.
A storm came one night.
Rain poured through the broken roof.
She shivered.
He wrapped her in his robe, pulling her close.
"You'll get cold," she murmured.
"If I cannot shield you from the rain…" he said softly,
"then what can I do at all?"
Her heart shattered.
"If one day I can do something for you… no matter the cost—
I will."
Another night, he painted her—
but stopped at the eyes.
She leaned in, took the brush, and finished them herself.
"Now you can't deny," she said softly,
"that I belong in your world."
He pulled her into his arms.
She buried her face in his chest, her heart pounding—
certain now, beyond doubt—
that she would follow him,
no matter the cost.
[The Rain and the Kiss]
Rain fell like a curtain.
She stood beneath the ruined eaves, soaked.
"Chengjing… if I become the Holy Maiden… and can never see you again…"
Her voice trembled.
"Will you forget me?"
His chest tightened.
"I will never forget you," he said.
He took her hand—pressed it to his heart.
"You are already written here."
Tears welled in her eyes.
Lightning split the sky.
He touched her face—
hands trembling.
She closed her eyes.
And in the roar of rain—
he kissed her.
Soft.
Clumsy.
Desperate.
She clutched his robes, tears mixing with rain.
Though they stopped before crossing the final boundary—
She knew.
She was already lost to him.
[The Final Night]
The hall was quiet again.
The pomegranate blossoms had long fallen.
Moonlight lay cold upon the stones.
When he pushed open the door—
she was already there.
Dressed in white.
Just like the first time.
"I… this is the last time," she said.
The candlelight flickered.
"The Holy Sanctuary has summoned me. From tomorrow onward, I will enter seclusion."
"Even you… will not be allowed to see me."
Pain struck his chest.
"What am I supposed to do?"
She stepped closer.
Touched his face.
"You don't have to do anything," she whispered.
"Just remember me. Remember this place."
He pulled her into his arms.
"I don't want memories. I want you!"
She trembled—
but shook her head.
The candle burned low.
She stepped back.
Turned—
and walked into the night.
He reached out—
but did not stop her.
Under the moonlight,
her white figure faded into darkness—
until she was gone.