Night deepened. The lanterns on the flower boat shimmered like fireflies caught in a drunken dream.

  Su Mo stood beneath a crooked pavilion, hands behind his back, gaze drifting lazily across the lively river scene. The air smelled of peach blossoms and cheap wine.

  He raised the flask for another sip—empty.

  “Out already?” He sighed and shook it. Not even a drop.

  Just as he turned to leave, a sudden gust of wind rustled the paper lanterns above. The music from the boat faltered for a moment. Then—

  Whoosh—

  A white blur flashed through the darkness.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Su Mo narrowed his eyes. A girl—no, a woman—flew across the rooftop of the flower boat with barely a sound. Her robes fluttered like mist, her movements smooth as falling snow.

  She didn’t leap—she floated.

  “What in the...”

  His drunken haze vanished in an instant.

  Not an acrobat. Not a dancer. No performer moved like that.

  He took a cautious step forward, watching as the woman landed softly on a higher level of the boat, disappearing behind a silk curtain.

  A few scholars near the riverbank looked up too, murmuring, but quickly returned to their wine. In this world of demons, spirits, and cultivators—perhaps such sights weren’t so rare after all.

  But to Su Mo, it was the first time he'd seen it with his own eyes.

  He stared for a long while.

  > “So… cultivation really does exist here.”

  “That wasn’t an illusion. That wasn’t makeup. That was real.”

  His heart thumped—not with fear, but with curiosity.

  For months he’d heard of cultivators—people who chased immortality, defied death, tamed beasts, and walked the skies. But those were tales for taverns and storytellers. Fantasies.

  Yet just now... one had passed before him, as casually as the wind.

  > “I’ve been wasting time chasing exams and coin, while the world dances on the edge of the divine.”

  He looked at his ink-stained fingers. Scholar’s hands. Mortal hands.

  “Is there a path for someone like me?” he whispered.

  Behind him, the river flowed, indifferent.

  远处，在花船的塔楼上，窗帘又飘动了。在最短暂的一瞬间，一双眼睛透过面纱与他对视——平静、清澈、像月光一样冰冷。

  然后，走了。

  苏陌打了个寒颤。

  “然后笑了。

  > 也许命运还没有结束。