Chapter 58: The Wager

At the foot of the divine city of Luoyang, in a small town, beneath the carved wooden windows of an unremarkable tavern, a guest in a green robe quietly appeared.

She was a woman, her age indiscernible, yet her face seemed to gather all the beauty and brilliance of the world—a brow like a distant mountain blade, eyes like a pool of blossoming peach flowers, exuding an inexpressible charm and elegance.

She chose a seat by the window, gently placed a crimson wine gourd on the table, paying no heed to the bustling streets filled with men and women in vibrant colors. Facing the half-open window, she spoke softly:

“Keeper, bring me your finest Daughter's Red.”

The innkeeper, a man in his early forties used to the comings and goings of travelers, was momentarily stunned by the sight of her. After a long pause, he chuckled and said:

“A lady as divine as you, yet fond of the contents of a cup?”

The woman’s lips curved ever so slightly, a smile that was neither wholly amused nor dismissive. “Good wine deserves a beautiful companion. Haven’t you heard that saying?”

The innkeeper slung a cloth over his shoulder, grinning, “Whether it’s a match or not, I wouldn’t dare judge. Just hope you don’t end up drunk in my humble tavern—that would be quite a bother.”

She merely smiled, answered, “Understood,” and fell silent.

The wine was excellent—rich and mellow, burning smoothly down the throat.

She drank unhurriedly, finishing one cup before pouring another. Her enchanting gaze seemed to rest on the newly budding willow tree just outside the window.

At that moment, the idle chatter of a few tea drinkers at the neighboring table drifted into her ears.

One man lowered his voice, speaking mysteriously:

“Have you heard? The divine city’s throne… has been ascended. Tsk, tsk—a female emperor, no less.”

Another promptly replied, “How could I not know? The one from the House of Dugu. Truly a pitiful soul—bearing the curse of the Dugu bloodline, and now her kin are dwindling. To say she’s alone in the world would hardly be an exaggeration.”

“Since ancient times, imperial families have been heartless. Who knows what kind of temperament that girl has—can she truly hold onto the emperor’s seat?”

“Hush… Matters of the imperial family are best left unsaid by common folk like us…”

The woman in green listened, her expression unchanged, finishing the last of her wine in one swift motion.

She called for the innkeeper, had her crimson wine gourd refilled, then rose and departed as quietly as she had arrived, disturbing not a speck of dust.

Leaving the tavern, she walked at leisure, not knowing how far she had gone until she reached an ordinary village.

Suddenly, her steps halted. In her eyes, always tinged with a trace of intoxication, a brilliant light flashed.

Under an old banyan tree at the village entrance, a boy of seven or eight was laughing and chasing his playmates. His clothes were simple and rough, his face smudged with dirt, yet his eyes shone as bright as the morning stars.

With a flicker, the woman stood before the boy.

The boy, caught mid-laughter, stopped in awe at the sight of the ethereal woman before him.

She studied him closely, but the joy and anticipation in her gaze gradually dimmed, fading into a barely audible sigh.

“No… it’s not him.”

---

She let out a muted laugh, self-mocking, “Sitou, oh Sitou, you really are obsessed. He’s only been gone so little while—how could reincarnation come so quickly?”

The boy watched her changing expressions—joyful one moment, forlorn the next—and asked hesitantly:

“Fairy sister, are you… looking for someone?”

Sitou collected herself, smiling gently at him. “Yes, I am searching for a person. But I don’t know if he’s been born yet.”

The boy found her words curious. “That’s funny, fairy. If he hasn’t been born, how are you supposed to find him?”

Sitou lifted her gaze to the endless sky, laughing softly. “He’s very special. With just one look, I’d recognize him. I just don’t know when he’ll be willing to see me.”

The boy, intrigued, asked again, “But how can you be sure he’ll be born? What if… he never is?”

Her smile faltered for a moment.

After a brief pause, she laughed freely, saying, “Then I’ll keep searching until he is born.”

“This is a wager between him and me. The heavens are unjust, condemning him never to be reborn. I’ll gamble with fate—if I can find him, then I win.”

The boy was stunned, feeling a strange ache from the steadfast sorrow in her words.

He was about to inquire further when, in a blur, the fairy sister had vanished, leaving only a lingering, brisk scent of wine in the wind.

Unnoticed, night had deepened.

Sitou reclined sideways on a sprawling branch of an ancient tree, tilting her head back for a swig of fiery wine.

She looked up, gazing at the pitch-black sky and at a faint, azure scar that stretched across the heavens, visible only to her.

“Su Changye…”

Facing that celestial scar, she murmured,

“You said you bear a curse, your soul scattered, forever denied reincarnation. But I refuse to believe such fate.”

“Whether it takes ten years, a hundred, or a thousand… I’ll find you, I promise…”

---

Tide Listening Pavilion, the top floor of the Eight Immortals Tower.

Still the same green-robed silhouette, still the crimson wine gourd.

She leaned against the railing, alone, facing the cold moon unchanged for three thousand years, pouring and drinking by herself.

But in her vision now, the ink-blue sky was clear and spotless, with no trace of the azure scar.

---

Her lips curled into a barely perceptible smile as she drained the last of her wine.

Suddenly, three soft knocks sounded from outside the door, measured and deliberate—clearly a visitor of refined manners.

Sitou did not even lift her eyelids, continuing to gaze quietly at the moon’s edge.

The visitor waited briefly, and, seeing no response, gently pushed the door open a crack and entered cautiously.

He was dressed as a scholarly gentleman—none other than Zhou Yan, the Star Observer of the Imperial Astronomy Bureau.

Upon entering, he saw the green-robed figure leaning by the railing and dared not disturb her, standing respectfully by the door and bowing:

“Immortal Lady.”

Sitou seemed only now to notice his arrival. Her exquisite face showed no surprise, only a faint smile.

“This Eight Immortals Tower is indeed tranquil. Lord Zhou, you are thoughtful.”

Zhou Yan’s face lit up with delight. “If you are pleased, Immortal Lady, then it is my greatest fortune.”

She ignored his flattery, tossing the crimson wine gourd to him with lazy ease.

“You’re just in time. My gourd is empty again. My disciple is unreliable, so I have to depend on you.”

Zhou Yan hurried to catch the gourd, his face plastered with smiles.

“To serve you is my blessing, Immortal Lady, truly my blessing.”

Sitou, seeing his anxious sincerity, smiled more deeply and suddenly asked,

“Don’t you want to ask when I’ll finally help you resolve your worries?”

Zhou Yan was momentarily startled, then bowed even more respectfully.

“You must have your own plans, Immortal Lady. I wouldn’t dare presume. My duty is simply to carry out your instructions.”

“Heh…”

Sitou laughed lightly. “Lord Zhou, you truly are a master of words, having survived the dragon’s lair and tiger’s den of the Imperial Astronomy Bureau.”

Zhou Yan hastily replied, “Your praise is undeserved, Immortal Lady—I am not worthy.”

She stopped playing with words, speaking slowly,

“To cure your heart’s ailment is not difficult. But before that, you must do something for me.”

Zhou Yan’s spirits soared. He replied solemnly,

“Whatever you command, Immortal Lady!”

Sitou turned away, looking again towards the cold moon hanging in the sky, speaking dreamily,

“Find a way to gather every observation record about the ‘Scar of the Abyss’ from your Imperial Astronomy Bureau’s thousand years of history—every word, without omission. Let me see them all.”