His resting pce is at the highest point of the entire moon city, a tower made of discarded metal, shimmering with the chaotic light that only appears when bdes cross under the full, golden moon.

  Lying on a broken billboard at the base of the tower, someone had scrawled incomprehensible words with blood-red paint, the letters exaggerated and enormous, their brightness undimmed by the night. His face bore no expression, only a slowly beating heart, waiting for a destiny.

  Earlier this morning, he had paid a visit to an old friend. That woman—no, that female yaokai—was perhaps his only true companion in life.

  It had been three hundred years, maybe five hundred, since they had st met. She was still the same—charming, full of life, ughing, and cursing. In a small alley, she ran a teahouse, idly scolding her two clumsy assistants, embodying a life of simplicity, her charm and troubles long washed away by the mundane. She seemed to live a carefree existence, untouched by the world's worries.

  Who would have imagined that, in some forgotten time, on a frosty evening at the peak of Mo Mountain, they had once stood together on the banks of the Yellow Spring Lake—half ice, half fme—fighting a monstrous, two-headed, man-eating red-finned anaconda?

  Back then, she was a force to be reckoned with—her long hair like a snow-capped sword, capable of summoning rain with a gesture and commanding winds with a palm, as swift and deadly as a leopard. The giant, dangerous creature, spewing red venom, writhed and howled beneath the setting sun, sending waves that nearly blotted out half the sky.

  He watched as her sword danced through the pale golden light, tracing a beautiful and calm arc, before piercing the throat of the red-scaled anaconda with precision.

  When the massive creature's lifeless body crashed into the ke, its deep blue blood spread quickly across the surface, reflecting a rare and stunning blue sky.

  "You are the most ruthless yaokai I've ever seen," he said, gncing at her. With a swift motion, he cut open the anaconda's back and drew out a thick "thread" the size of his thumb, coiling it neatly and pcing it into his pocket.

  She gently cradled the snow at her feet, carefully wiping her sword with a smile. "Likewise."

  "Can we be friends?" he asked, suddenly stopping before leaving.

  Before this day, the word "friend" had never existed in his life.

  "If you treat me to a nice meal and send me a box of gold bars..." She stood up, shrugged, and stuck out her tongue at him. "Then I'll consider it."

  In the days that followed, they became friends. Though they didn't see each other often, when they did, it was usually for a wild, carefree binge. In his drunken stupor, he would watch her ugh and cause a ruckus. Eventually, she would colpse beside him, leaning against his knee, and fall asleep.

  He knew that they were different. Her ruthlessness with her sword was only ever for the protection of those who couldn't protect themselves.

  But his bde was different, even though it held the same power.

  One day, he went to find her and handed over his most precious possession.

  "Keep this safe for me," he said, giving her a pat on the shoulder.

  She looked at the item in her hands, silent for a long while, then spoke, "You need to think this through. You might never have the chance to take it back."

  "If that's the case..." He gave her a pyful wink. "Then consider it yours." With that, he turned and walked away, free of attachments.

  Centuries passed—sometimes slow, like the dripping of water; other times, fleeting, like a galloping horse. Not a moment could be controlled by anyone.

  Yesterday, he sat in her “Endless” space, calmly sipping the very bitter tea she had brewed for him, and said, “Aren’t you curious about the reason I came to recim that thing?”

  "I'm only curious about how much you're willing to pay for the storage fee,” she raised an eyebrow.

  "You really haven't changed a bit,” he smiled.

  She didn′t reply. Instead, she took a deep breath, stepped forward, and gave him a big, long hug, not letting go for quite some time.

  As he was leaving, he turned back and asked, “If I come to find you tomorrow, shall we drink ourselves senseless?”

  "Let's see how many gold bars you're willing to give me.” She stuck out her tongue at him.

  Standing at the door, she watched his retreating figure, the lively spark in her eyes slowly giving way to a yer of quiet unease. I will drink with you until we're both drunk, she thought to herself, just like the many days from before. As long as you show up safely in front of me tomorrow.

  She told herself this in her heart.