No history book bears their names.

  Yet, they deserve to be remembered more than anyone else.

  Because they were a group of people who followed their true hearts, sincerely pouring their lives into what they believed.

  ---------

  The pale yellow and deep bck intertwined to create a soft, dim light underfoot, as if I were slowly walking through the river of time.

  Jiú Jué walked ahead of me, his ke-blue hair reflected in the spotless gss dispy cabinets around us, as if a piece of the clearest sky had been plucked and embedded within. It vividly threaded through the focused gaze in his eyes.

  This was the first time for both of us in Xi'an, the first time stepping into this grand and towering museum that holds a thousand years of stories.

  Jiu Jue came for a field trip, while I was forcibly hired as his companion. One of the terms of the contract: a box of gold bars; the other: whenever he visits my shop for drinks, he must pay in cash and cannot request a discount.

  Walking through a pce where countless relics from the past are gathered together, I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of discomfort. The artifacts in the dispy cases, now revered as national treasures, were once insignificant items that were casually handled in the course of my own years. But, having been stamped with the heavy imprint of history, their fate had turned, finding themselves confined to these small gss cases, admired by thousands, out of reach. I couldn't help but wonder, would I one day end up like them, forever confined in a gss case? The thought suddenly passed through my mind. But then again, my strange thought was nothing compared to Jiu Jue, this ancient being.

  He stood in front of one particur dispy for at least ten minutes, then turned to me, pointing at the object in the case with a smile. "Give me this as a birthday gift!"

  The object in the dispy case was a Tang Dynasty "Horse Dancer Cup Pattern Silver Wine Pot." This wine pot was smooth and soft to the touch, with rounded lines and a gilded lotus flower lid. A fine silver chain hung from its side, and both sides of the pot were engraved with gilded patterns of dancing horses, vivid and lifelike—truly a delicate and exquisite masterpiece. However, to me, who had seen countless rare and precious treasures, this wine pot held no special significance.

  "If this old drunkard wants a wine pot as a birthday gift, I can be generous and give you a limited edition Swarovski crystal wine bottle. No problem there." I crossed my arms and stood behind him, raising an eyebrow. "But don't even think about making me an accomplice in stealing a national-level cultural relic."

  "I just want this one." Jiu Jue stubbornly pointed at it. "Give it to me!"

  "If you're so capable, go take it yourself. I won't be an accomplice," I firmly refused. But in my heart, I wondered what was wrong with this old guy. With his cultivation, if he wanted to take the item, it would be a piece of cake. Why did he insist on having me do it? He sighed and lowered his hand in disappointment. I'd never seen Jiu Jue, who always had a mischievous grin and never took anything seriously, look like this—like a puppet with its soul ripped out.

  "Hey, you... don't need to act like this. If you give me a reasonable expnation, I might..." I hesitated. After all, this guy had helped me a lot in the past. Although his request was strange, it wasn't something I couldn't do.

  "Hah, little tree Yaokai, I was just teasing you!" Jiu Jue suddenly turned around, fshing back to his usual carefree self, grinning, "It′s not something that belongs to me."

  But there was a hint of disappointment lingering in the corner of his eye, clearly trying to hide it.

  "Let's go; time to eat." He turned and walked away.

  "You′re troubled," I caught his arm.

  "I want to eat!" He shrugged me off and walked straight toward the museum exit.

  I gged behind, watching him. This old man always looked so simple, so naive, as if he could see through everyone and everything. But I knew, of all the people I knew, he was the hardest to decipher. His heart, like his strange ke-blue hair, was elusive, impossible to capture.

  In the time I've known him, through thousands of years, we've talked about everything—history, the world, the future—yet he never once spoke of his past. The only clue I ever caught was years ago on Fulong Mountain, when, between games of chess with another, I overheard that he seemed to be searching for someone but could never find them...

  I ran after him, and at the exit, where visitors left their messages, he had just set down his pen.

  Flipping through the guestbook filled with various handwriting, the st page held his elegant script—"A thousand miles following the fragrance, smiling at the shadow in the wine. Golden branches sway with jade leaves; women compete with men."

  Ahead, his figure disappeared into the traces of the autumn wind. In the air, there was a faint melody—one he hummed—a soft tune I had never heard before...