Flames of Reunion — The Night of Ten Thousand Lights

The palace shimmered with light that night.
From afar, lanterns bloomed across the darkness, scattered and soft.
The undulating palace walls caught their glow, wrapping it close like a jeweled robe.
From the tall pavilions above, one could see the glittering brilliance below—a thousand lights flickering like pearls poured upon a golden tray.

The grand banquet was held in Qingfeng Hall.

Bai Xi arrived just in time.

The feast had only recently begun; the formal speeches had ended, the first courses cleared away.
Now, the emperor’s newest favorite—Consort Hongling—was dancing on the lotus pool, her movements fluid as mist.

The courtiers could scarcely breathe, enchanted by her beauty.

Zhuo Yuan, the emperor of Xihan, adored her beyond measure. Though she had entered the palace only recently, she had already been promoted three ranks in quick succession.

Rumor whispered that Princess Haiqing’s sudden departure from the palace had been caused by a quarrel with Hongling—and that Zhuo Yuan had taken Hongling’s side, scolding his own sister in front of the court.

Tonight’s dance blended the folk traditions of Dongyi and Xihan—a fusion of elegance and wild freedom. Hongling’s every step dazzled; the men below gaped openly, wiping at their drool.

Passing by, Bai Xi could not help but glance toward the pool—and paused.

The dancer’s face.

Seven parts similar to her own.

And so, before the eyes of the court, Bai Xi revealed herself.

Music stopped mid-note.

At the center of the stage, Hongling held her pose—arms raised, petals ready to scatter from her flower basket. Then she froze, eyes widening, as Bai Xi descended lightly from the air to hover above her.

The flower basket slipped from her hands with a soft plop, vanishing into the pond below.

A hush swept through the hall.
Dozens of eyes darted between Hongling and Bai Xi, confused, comparing, unable to tell who was who.

Bai Xi smiled gently. “Don’t be afraid. I’m merely passing by. I saw someone who looked very much like me, and I was curious.”

With a graceful flick of her sleeve, the flower basket floated up from the water, landing in her palm.

She handed it back to Hongling. “Here—you dropped this.”

Hongling’s face went pale, then blue. Her lips trembled. “Who looks like you? You shameless woman! This is my face! What are you?”

Bai Xi frowned slightly. “I don’t like the way you speak to me.”

Another sweep of her sleeve—and Hongling was lifted bodily from the ground, spinning helplessly before plunging headfirst back into the lotus pond.

Bai Xi followed her descent, letting the basket fall once more. Petals drifted down, soft and fragrant, completing the dance Hongling had begun.

Behind her, the court stood in stunned silence.

Bai Xi was turning to leave when a voice, trembling with awe, called out—

“Immortal… Immortal Maiden?”

A man in yellow stood before her, golden robes gleaming beneath the lamplight, the tassels of his crown brushing his brow.

It was Emperor Zhuo Yuan himself.

He stepped forward, hand outstretched as though to touch her.

Bai Xi frowned and drew back. “I don’t know you.”

Zhuo Yuan stumbled closer, his face flushed. “You… you don’t remember me? I’m Zhuo Yuan. I’ve waited three years for you.”

Bai Xi studied him for a moment, then shook her head earnestly. “I still don’t know you.”

His body swayed as though struck.

“Do you know Qin An?” Bai Xi asked suddenly. “I’m looking for him.”
She gestured as she spoke. “He wears black, always carries a dark sword at his waist, and he never smiles.”

The faint light in Zhuo Yuan’s eyes went out with a snap.

“I’ve been looking for him,” she said softly. “For a very, very long time.”

A shiver ran through the hall.

And then—

Crash!

A goblet shattered on the marble floor.

Qin An stood behind her, his face pale as the moon, the spilled wine glimmering like spilled blood at his feet.

“Bai Xi…?”

Bai Xi turned, smiling like spring sunlight. “Qin An, I’ve looked for you for so long.”

Lanterns flickered in the shifting air, their glow wavering across her face.
Her joy bloomed slowly, quietly, in her eyes.

A gust of wind stirred the petals on the floor.

Then, as softly as a falling blossom, Bai Xi leapt forward—
and landed in Qin An’s arms.

“Qin An,” she whispered again, “I’ve looked for you for so long.”

For a moment, he seemed lost in a dream.
Then his arms came around her, trembling.

“You… are you Qiao Qiao—or Bai Xi?”

The world stopped breathing.

From the side, Gu Yi stared, eyes wide with fire.

He lunged forward, seizing Bai Xi’s arm. “Who are you? Give Qiao Qiao back!”

Bai Xi brushed her sleeve—and Gu Yi flew backward, plunging straight into the lotus pond.

Turning back, she rested her head against Qin An’s chest. “Don’t you remember me?” she murmured. “I’m Bai Xi. I’m Bai Xi.”

Pain clouded his gaze. He nodded faintly, then shook his head, confusion and sorrow tangled in his eyes.

“I know you’re Bai Xi,” he said, “but what you speak of—I remember none of it.”

Bai Xi smiled. “That’s all right. I’ll help you remember.”

Fire ignited beneath her feet.
It climbed up her robes, bright and alive, twining around both of them.

Flames rose high, forming a barrier none could cross.

“Fire! The General is on fire!”

Servants rushed forward with buckets, but the water turned to steam before touching them.

The fire danced higher still. Qin An’s hair fell loose, dark and glimmering. When the flames reached his waist, the black sword at his side flared with cold blue light, forcing the fire back.

He stared down at her, dazed, his voice low. “I… hurt you once, didn’t I?”

Bai Xi said nothing.

“You hate me,” he whispered, brushing her hair with trembling fingers. “You hate me enough to kill me. Don’t you? If killing me would ease that hatred… then do it.”

Bai Xi’s hands trembled around his waist. The flames surged higher.

And then Qin An bent his head—and kissed her.

Within the storm of fire, the two were sealed in a single, burning kiss.

From afar, Emperor Zhuo Yuan turned pale, clutching his head in anguish. His attendants hurried to steady him.

Gu Yi crawled from the pond, soaked and shaking, his face shadowed, unreadable.

Only one figure stood trembling.

Jin Xiu.

The cold wind cut through her silks, draining the warmth from her face. She turned slowly, meeting the stares of the crowd.

They were watching her—all of them.

Watching the Emperor’s sister, watching the wife of Qin An, watching her humiliation.
Waiting to see her break.

She mustn’t falter.
She mustn’t lose composure.

At last, she raised her chin and spoke, her voice cold as steel.
“Insolence!”

Her tone did not waver, her poise unbroken. She had not shamed her rank.

She swept her sleeve. “Guards—separate them!”

The soldiers surged forward, but the flames held, their swords glancing harmlessly off the burning air.

Their struggle drew Bai Xi’s attention.

She lifted her gaze. One flick of her wrist—and Jin Xiu was yanked off her feet, dragged through the air.

When the world stopped spinning, Jin Xiu found herself hanging by the throat, Bai Xi’s fingers closing like iron around her neck.

Bai Xi’s smile was thin and cruel. “Jin Xiu. It’s been a long time.”

The Princess’s feet kicked helplessly, pearls scattering from her hair.

“Three thousand years,” Bai Xi murmured, “and you’re still just as detestable.”

Jin Xiu gasped, voice rasping. “Qin… Qin An…”

“He can’t hear you,” Bai Xi said, her voice silk and ice. “But don’t worry. Once I kill you, I’ll send him to join you in hell.”

Jin Xiu’s head shook weakly, eyes fixed on Qin An. “Qin An… Qin An…”

“Why call his name?” Bai Xi’s lips curved in mockery. “Do you want him to save you? Or stab me again with that sword of his?”

Her voice dropped lower, venomous. “From the first time I saw you, I knew you despised me. You—heaven-born, proud, untouchable. To you, I was a wild thing from the dust, unworthy of your sky. And then, when Qin An chose me, your hate deepened.”

Jin Xiu stared, bewildered. The past meant nothing to her now—her mortal soul had long drunk the waters of forgetfulness.

Bai Xi saw that realization dawn—and smiled faintly. “It’s all right if you don’t remember. Just remember this much: I am your enemy.”

With that, she flung Jin Xiu through the air.

The princess crashed into the marble wall, coughing blood, then barely managed to rise before Bai Xi’s heel slammed down on her chest.

“Won’t you beg for mercy?” Bai Xi asked softly.

Jin Xiu wiped the blood from her lips and sneered. “If what you say is true—if in our past lives I was divine and you were a beast—then why would I beg you?”

Bai Xi tilted her head, smiling faintly. “Good. That’s the Jin Xiu I remember.”

Grabbing her by the collar, Bai Xi rose into the air again, landing in the center of the great hall.

Most of the courtiers had fled at Zhuo Yuan’s order.
Only a few guards remained—and with them, Gu Yi, dripping and pale, and Qin An, dazed within the dying firelight.

Jin Xiu’s body hit the floor with a dull thud.

Zhuo Yuan stepped forward at last, his voice trembling. “Immortal, please—forgive her.”

Bai Xi turned, her eyes calm. “And who is she to you?”

“She… she is my sister.”

Bai Xi inclined her head. “Ah. Then it’s natural for you to plead for her.”
Her smile turned sharp. “I was just thinking of peeling off her skin. Since you’re her brother, why don’t you take her place?”

Zhuo Yuan’s face drained of color. He stumbled back a step.

Bai Xi’s tone softened into mockery. “What’s wrong? Don’t want to?”

“Im—Immortal… your punishment… it’s too—”

“Too what?” Her voice cut him short. “Too cruel?”

She took another step forward, eyes gleaming.

“If cruelty shocks you so, then perhaps those who once flayed others alive deserve to be hated, don’t you think? Yet here you stand—pleading for forgiveness, spouting mercy as if it were virtue. How… hypocritical.”

Zhuo Yuan’s lips moved, but no words came.
His face blanched, pale as wax.

And in the burning silence of Qingfeng Hall, only the firelight spoke—
dancing wildly across the ruin that was once the heart of heaven.