I longed to alter the tragic fate of the Divine Child, who, a millennium ago, met a gruesome end. Harnessing the System, I became his shadow for five years. Finally, after he inadvertently broke his vows, he agreed to abandon his monastic life and marry me. The night before our wedding, at the Royal Hunting Grounds, assassins struck. In that critical moment, he pushed me aside, choosing instead to shield the Emperor’s beloved Concubine. His sword gleamed, blood staining his pristine white robes, yet not a drop touched his untouched, beloved Concubine. I clutched my shoulder, the wound searing. It was then I finally understood: this love, spanning a thousand years, had to end. I summoned the long-silent System. “I want to go home.” “I no longer wish to alter his fate of being implicated by his pure love, of being dismembered, of having his sacred bones carved out, piece by agonizing piece.” 1 “System, I want to go home.” The long-dormant System, summoned by my plea, swiftly materialized. “Host, are you certain? The journey through time is a one-way trip. Once you return, you cannot go back to the era of Siddhartha, the Divine Child.” The System’s tone betrayed a hint of regret, even pity, for me. After all, it was the System that had sent me across a thousand years, thrusting me into this alien ancient world. I had sought Siddhartha, hoping to change his grim destiny. A bitter smile touched my lips. “I tried…” Siddhartha, the Divine Child, was a revered monk in history, born with sacred bones, his presence as pure and cold as fresh snow. He left behind countless holy scriptures, a distant, ethereal moon in the long night of history. Yet, he died at the age of twenty-five, all for a childhood sweetheart. For five years in this world, I meticulously chronicled every detail of his life, every fleeting expression, every nuanced gesture. Everyone knew that my eyes were solely for Siddhartha. Before I came here, I had studied him for so long. For him, I would have risked everything. I accompanied him through wind and rain, traversing treacherous, muddy mountain paths, simply to visit an ancient, barely accessible temple. For this, I caught a severe fever and broke a leg. I couldn’t comprehend the intricate, archaic scriptures, yet I willingly spent all my savings to purchase rare, sole copies for him, simply to witness him press his hands together in prayer, offering me a fleeting, gentle smile. Finally, on the fifth year, he returned from a royal banquet. He had been poisoned, and in that moment, he broke his monastic vows. He bit my lips. He murmured against my ear. He held me tightly, begging me not to leave him. I remember Siddhartha after he awoke. His eyes were bloodshot, his entire being seemingly fractured. His prayer beads were tightly wrapped around his hand, the veins prominent, as if ready to consume. He chanted his vows repeatedly, self-flagellating, unable to even glance at me. I gasped, a painful, heavy breath. Quietly, I began to dress. “Siddhartha, I’ll go out first…” “Wait!” He frowned, his voice cold, stopping me. “I have broken my vows. I can no longer be a monk.” His voice was light, yet it echoed in my ears for an eternity. “I will marry you.” I stood there, dumbfounded for a long time, before the meaning of Siddhartha’s words truly registered. My heart pounded in my ears like a drum. My very blood seemed to turn into viscous honey. Dizzily, a silly smile plastered on my face, I personally oversaw every detail of our impending wedding. My hands ached as I penned hundreds of invitations with an unfamiliar brush, my calligraphy clumsy. I cut out countless symbols of happiness from red paper. The patterns on my wedding gown felt too vulgar, unfitting for the pure and ethereal Siddhartha, so I redesigned them again and again. Every single detail, I wanted to be perfect. Yet— Our wedding was postponed. I touched the scar on my shoulder, still tender where the wound had scabbed. I forced a smile, wiping away tears that had welled up unnoticed. I found a large sandalwood chest. Into it, I carefully placed everything related to Siddhartha from the past five years: the wedding gown I never had a chance to wear, the meticulously kept journal documenting every detail of his life, even his worn monk’s robes. At eighteen, I was still a naive, idealistic girl, full of grand fantasies. I believed the System had sent me to him so I could find a way to keep him alive before he reached twenty-five. Later, I realized history simply could not be changed. No matter how long I stayed by his side, he would always, just as the historical records stated, sacrifice his life for the Imperial family. “Host, are you truly not staying?” I shook my head. “When can you send me home?” “In five days, the transmission will begin. You have five days to bid farewell to the people here, to leave no regrets…” 2 I entrusted the chest to Aella, my maidservant of five years. “After I leave,” I told her. “Take these to Lady Seraphina, the Royal Concubine. Consider it a keepsake for her.” Aella held the chest, her brow furrowed with anxious confusion. “Lady Aspen, where are you going? Are you not staying to marry the Divine Child?” Over the years, my profound admiration and relentless pursuit of Siddhartha had been witnessed by all. “Where are you going?” a cool, clear voice interrupted. I turned to see Siddhartha stepping out of his chambers. Moonlight enveloped his pristine white robes, casting a sacred, silvery glow around him. I recalled the first time I saw him; it was a scene much like this. He sat upon a lotus throne, revered by thousands, his slender fingers turning prayer beads as he chanted sutras, blessing all living beings. Just one glance, and I could never tear my eyes away. His gaze, however, had never truly lingered on me. “Nowhere,” I replied. “You know, I don’t know anyone else here.” For five years, my entire world had revolved around him, trying everything I could to change his future. “Just tidying some unnecessary things,” I murmured, my words more for myself than for him. “Asking Aella to dispose of them.” By clearing away these obsessions, I could leave without a single lingering regret. Siddhartha asked no further questions, merely glancing at the now empty hall. He had always been quiet and reserved, only showing a flicker of emotion when discussing scriptures with me, or when seeing someone else. 3 That evening, an urgent knocking echoed at the temple gates. I watched, startled, as Lady Seraphina, the Royal Concubine, stood at the entrance, dressed in humble maid’s attire. “Your Ladyship, what brings you here?” Lady Seraphina, her face etched with concern, walked directly towards Siddhartha’s chambers, her steps revealing a familiar ease. It was as if she had been here countless times before. “Siddhartha was injured protecting me,” she explained, her voice tinged with anxiety. “I simply couldn’t rest easy.” She then clutched my sleeve, her beautiful eyes glinting mischievously. “You must keep my presence here a secret.” I followed silently behind her, feeling like an unwelcome intruder, as she entered Siddhartha’s room. The moment Siddhartha saw her, the scripture he held slipped from his fingers. He rose abruptly. “Nonsense! What are you doing here?” I had never seen the usually serene Siddhartha so openly furious. His cold, rebuking words instantly brought tears to Lady Seraphina’s eyes. She bit her lip, crystal tears clinging to her lashes, and whimpered, “Why did you get hurt for me…?” “I was afraid no one else could care for you properly. I had to come see you myself to feel at ease.” I stiffened. My heart was yanked, a dull ache spreading through me. I had shared intimacy with Siddhartha, and we were engaged to be married, yet in their eyes, I was utterly insignificant, merely “someone else.” “If you don’t want to see me, I’ll leave!” Lady Seraphina declared, turning on her heel in a fit of pique. Siddhartha rose so quickly that his leg bumped against the corner of the table. He didn’t pause, grabbing Lady Seraphina’s arm firmly. In the process, the wound I had bandaged and dressed for him just days before reopened. Blood stained the fresh bandage, yet he didn’t notice, his eyes fixed solely on Lady Seraphina. Lady Seraphina gasped, staring at the blood dripping from his fingertips. Large tears welled in her eyes, rolling down her cheeks. Oblivious to my presence, she cupped Siddhartha’s hand, carefully unwrapping the bandage. Her fingers trembling, she applied ointment. I clearly saw the ice in Siddhartha’s eyes melt. Siddhartha, who abhorred being touched, did not withdraw his hand. He gently, tenderly wiped away Lady Seraphina’s tears. “Seraphina,” he murmured, his voice softening, “don’t cry. It doesn’t hurt… And it’s not worth risking your life by sneaking out of the palace. Don’t ever do this again.” His voice grew hoarse. “You are the Emperor’s Concubine. You rightfully belong in the palace, by His Majesty’s side.” Seraphina. That was Lady Seraphina’s intimate given name. For five years, Siddhartha had only ever addressed me by my full name, “Aspen.” This, I realized, was the stark difference. 4 I remembered that night in the meditation hall, the air thick with the scent of sandalwood. Even drugged, his mind clouded, he had tried his best not to touch me. His robes remained undisturbed. In his dark, unfocused eyes, there was only black ice. He had merely used me as an antidote. Thinking back now, his desperate embrace, his pleas for me not to leave… It was all an illusion, a delirium brought on by the drug, mistaking me for someone else. I, foolishly, had been so happy, believing he was simply not good with words, accustomed to asceticism, but that he held a small, unique affection for me. It wasn’t until I witnessed his interaction with Lady Seraphina that I truly understood. His coldness, his detachment from worldly desires, was reserved only for me. 5 I quietly retreated. My nose stung, and I gazed at the hazy, distant moon. A moon that could not be plucked from the sky. So let it remain there, unreachable. From afar, I would offer my silent blessings. Through the closed door, Lady Seraphina’s broken sobs drifted intermittently. “Siddhartha, you know how to wound me so deeply!” she cried. “Do you hate me? I thought you had severed all earthly ties…” “You were forced into the selection for the Royal Concubines back then, weren’t you? Don’t you know who I truly wished to marry?” “You only became a monk after I entered the palace, didn’t you?” I covered my ears, desperate not to hear. But Lady Seraphina’s cries, and his low, comforting murmurs, infiltrated every crevice, piercing my ears, stabbing my heart. Finally, Lady Seraphina’s voice ceased. Then came the sound of a table colliding with something. A long time passed before Lady Seraphina emerged. Her lipstick was smudged. I averted my eyes, forbidding myself to speculate, to grieve over someone who held no consequence for me. Five days left. In five days, I would be able to leave. And never return. Lady Seraphina’s smile was dazzling, yet strangely cutting. She leaned in, as if deliberately wanting me to notice something, and pressed a small bottle of medicine into my hand. “You know, as a Royal Concubine, I cannot often leave the palace,” she purred. “So, I’ll have to trouble you to look after Siddhartha. He has a cold temperament, pushing others away, so please, Lady Aspen, bear with him.” She spoke as if declaring her ownership, introducing Siddhartha to me. I was his nominal “fiancée.” How could it be a “trouble”? Compared to every previous disappointment and hurt, I calmly took the medicine from her hand and nodded in agreement. Siddhartha rushed out after her, his expression surprisingly anxious. I felt a faint, bitter laugh bubble up within me. He believed I would make things difficult for the pure love he cherished in his heart. But what right did I have? “Lady Seraphina and I have no intimate connection,” Siddhartha explained, for the first time, to me. “She came only out of gratitude for my saving her.” My gaze fell, landing directly on the lipstick stain on his pristine white robe. A vibrant, almost defiant color, like a delicate begonia blooming on his shoulder. I still felt a catch in my throat. “It seems the Concubine’s comfort was effective.” Siddhartha, noticing the lipstick mark, his face subtly shifting, frowned and vigorously tried to rub it off. “Aspen, it’s not what you think.” His voice returned to its usual composed tone, tinged with a hint of helpless exasperation, as if I were being unreasonable. “The Concubine merely tripped over the table, almost falling, and I simply helped her. Her lipstick just rubbed onto my robes.” Siddhartha’s cool eyes fixed on mine. In the years I had been by his side, I had grown somewhat insecure, constantly haunted by the historical accounts of his tragic end. Because I had come solely for him, he couldn’t possibly understand. I still remembered Siddhartha, like the pure white snow on a mountain peak, radiating compassion. He had said, word for word, “My heart is devoted to the Dharma, and it shall never change. I will never fall into the worldly abyss for anyone.” I stood outside the temple, having heard his words, and did not return to his side. That was when I first tried to summon the System to leave, but it did not respond. When Siddhartha found me, my eyes were swollen from crying. His profound features held no emotion, nor did he offer comfort. After a long time, when my sobs had dissolved into hiccups, he spoke calmly, “I’ve prepared the vegetarian meal. It will get cold if we don’t go back now, and cold vegetarian meals are not palatable.” I returned to his side. I thought I always would leave. He was so anxious about Lady Seraphina’s reputation. I closed my red-rimmed eyes. Since I was leaving anyway, why should I care so much? “Siddhartha, I believe you. I believe there’s nothing between you and Lady Seraphina.” 6 Late into the silent night, I unlaced my gown and applied ointment to my shoulder. Even today, Siddhartha remained unaware. On the day of the Royal Hunting Grounds, I too had been wounded. An assassin’s sword had pierced my arm, blood soaking through my clothes. It hurt so much, so terribly! After kicking me away, the assassin had sneered at me: “I heard that the Divine Child, Siddhartha, broke his vows for you, willing to forsake his monastic life and marry you. Yet, at the moment of life and death, the one he cared for, the one he saved, was not you!” “Tsk, tsk. You even thought to use your life to threaten him. Clearly, you’re not so important after all.” It was all just rumors. The Divine Child’s heart had never wavered. I couldn’t change anything. That day, I wore an ochre-red silk gown. The blood that flowed out was barely visible to others. My face was deathly pale. I strained to look towards Siddhartha. The moment the assassin lunged towards the Emperor’s side, Siddhartha made his choice. He violently pushed away my grasping hand, letting me fall to the ground, scraping my elbow. He grasped the sword, his hand closing around the blade, deflecting it from Lady Seraphina. Blood dripped from his fingers; even from a distance, it seared my eyes. Each drop fell onto his pristine white robes. All the chaos on the ground, the blood… was shielded by his tall, resolute figure. It was Lady Seraphina who reacted first. She suppressed the anxiety on her face, still feigning unfamiliarity with Siddhartha. Lady Seraphina stammered, holding back tears, her voice reaching my ears: “Divine Child, you need not save me. You should first save Lady Aspen.” Siddhartha did not glance my way, his voice cool and detached: “Her Ladyship’s life is more important than hers.” The medicinal powder stung the wound on my shoulder. I gasped, a sharp intake of breath. I finally understood: true affection could not be feigned. One would instinctively risk their life to protect the person they truly cared for! Recalling that scene at the hunting grounds, even now, as I decided to leave, a bitter ache still lingered in my heart. But it no longer mattered. Once I left this era, I would completely forget him, wouldn’t I? 7 From my sleeve, I pulled out the last item belonging to Siddhartha. It was a string of blood-red prayer beads. When the System first sent me to this era, I had dropped from the sky, still wearing strange, modern clothes. The villagers murmured, reporting me to the authorities, intending to have me arrested for questioning. I hid, dodging their pursuit, until I saw Siddhartha, pure and serene, seated on a lotus throne, chanting scriptures and offering blessings. When he prepared to return to the temple, I finally appeared before him. “Divine Child, can you save me just this once?” I pleaded. “I will repay you!” Siddhartha said nothing. He simply allowed me to hide in his palanquin. The palanquin was small, and we were pressed closely together. His cool robes, imbued with the scent of sandalwood, brushed against my face, filling me with a lingering sense of melancholy. I mourned for the historically famous figure who would one day fall. As he departed, Siddhartha slipped the prayer beads from his wrist and gave them to me. “This is my token. The officials will not trouble you if they see it.” I caressed the warm, smooth beads in my hand. No matter how much lingering attachment I had, it was time to sever it. The day before I left, I found Siddhartha. I held out the string of prayer beads that had never left my wrist, offering them to him. I had initially intended to seal them in the chest, but these prayer beads, it was said, were a relic passed down to him by his master. After some thought, I decided it was best to return them to him personally. “These prayer beads are too precious,” I said. “I no longer have need of them, so I’m returning them to you. My apologies for causing you so much trouble all this time.” Siddhartha was deep in meditation. At my words, he suddenly opened his clear, profound eyes. “You don’t want them?” His voice seemed a fraction more urgent. I thought I must have misheard. I smiled and nodded. “Yes. It’s your master’s prayer beads; it’s not fitting for me to keep wearing them. When you meet someone more important in the future, you can give them to her.” This was my last farewell to him. The System had told me not to leave any regrets. I expected him to say something to me, even just a question. But he asked nothing. After a cool nod, he took the prayer beads from my hand. Historical records stated that he was born with sacred bones, destined for monastic life. I took one last, lingering look at Siddhartha’s features, as cold and sharp as carved ice. He truly looked like a living Buddha seated on a lotus throne, devoid of all human emotion. This was for the best. As if I had never appeared at all. 8 On my final day before the System transported me away, an imperial decree arrived from the palace, summoning both Siddhartha and me for an audience with the Emperor. On the way to the main hall, I suddenly twisted my ankle. The palace attendants instructed me to rest in the Royal Gardens while they went to fetch a palanquin. I sat quietly behind a cluster of flowering shrubs. There, I saw Lady Seraphina, whom I hadn’t seen in a long time. Apart from that one time she secretly snuck out of the palace and was rebuked by Siddhartha, she had never dared to leave the palace again. She wore a lavish palace gown, accompanied by her maidservant, looking rather despondent as she admired the flowers. After ensuring no one else was nearby, Lady Seraphina caressed a flower branch and murmured, “I wonder how much longer it will be before I can see Siddhartha again. He is about to abandon his monastic life and marry… What reason will I have left to visit him then?” Lady Seraphina forced a pale smile. “Sometimes, I selfishly wish he would remain a monk his entire life, devoted to the solitary lamp and ancient scriptures. If he cannot belong to me, then he should not belong to any other woman.” Her maid, likely her confidante, consoled her. “Your Ladyship, do you not already know why the Divine Child is forsaking his vows, why he is marrying that woman?” She paused, leaning in conspiratorially. “It’s all for you, Your Ladyship!” “At the imperial banquet, someone deliberately set a trap for Your Ladyship. The Divine Child, upon learning of it, specifically swapped the wine cups and drank the poisoned wine himself. This servant created an opportunity for you to be alone with him, yet he preferred to bite his own tongue until it bled rather than touch Your Ladyship, using your precious body as an antidote. He firmly sent Your Ladyship back to the palace, and only after confirming your safety did he leave.” “That shameless woman, who has followed the Divine Child for five years, constantly clinging to him, is merely his antidote. Why should Your Ladyship concern yourself with her existence? If the Divine Child had truly harbored feelings for her, he would not have allowed her to remain by his side for five years, only to offer to marry her out of obligation after that incident.” I raised my cold hand and rubbed my stiff, numb face. I knew in my heart that I was merely Siddhartha’s “antidote,” but hearing it spoken so contemptuously by others was an entirely different experience. He was unwilling to sully or contaminate his “pure love,” unwilling to subject her to gossip within the palace, so he chose me. I limped on my sprained ankle, following Siddhartha in a daze to the main hall. The Emperor, majestic and smiling, spoke, “You, as a man of the cloth, bravely risked your life to protect my beloved Concubine. For this, you have rendered great service. I hear you broke your monastic vows for a woman named Aspen. I grant you permission to return to secular life, and I bestow upon you and that woman my imperial blessing for marriage!” This was an immense honor, like a thunderbolt, exploding within the grand hall. Siddhartha, who was kneeling before me, lifted his face in disbelief, his body under his robes suddenly rigid. Actually, Siddhartha didn’t need to be so distressed. I was leaving soon; I wouldn’t entangle him further, nor would I marry him. “I respectfully ask His Majesty to retract the decree,” I said, standing up, ignoring the myriad gazes fixed upon me. “This commoner does not wish to marry him.” I continued, “This commoner does not belong here and will soon depart…” Siddhartha’s cool demeanor shattered like broken jade, cracking inch by agonizing inch. His eyes were wide with shock, and the corners of his eyes were faintly red as he looked at me. “Aspen, what are you saying?” 9 “Where are you going?” Siddhartha’s face was ashen, as if he had been struck by lightning. He was like a shattered jade Buddha, revealing the panic hidden within. He gripped my wrist, his fingers white, pressing painfully into my skin. I hadn’t even had a chance to speak. A palace attendant, frantic, burst into the hall. “Your Majesty, Lady Seraphina collapsed just outside the hall!” She didn’t want the Emperor to bestow the marriage. Actually, I had never truly hoped to marry Siddhartha; I just wanted to try and change his fate. I was an outsider from the beginning, so it was best to return him to her. The Emperor, overcome with concern, immediately left the hall to see to Lady Seraphina. Others followed, leaving the grand hall empty. Only Siddhartha remained, his eyes red-rimmed, still clutching my wrist, refusing to let go. If only he had tried to keep me earlier… I smiled at him, my gaze falling on his hand wrapped in prayer beads. “The Concubine collapsed. Aren’t you going to check on her?” It was too tiring, seeing him abandon me again and again to rush to Lady Seraphina’s side. Siddhartha’s serene face was taut. He lowered his gaze, revealing a flicker of panic and vulnerability. “Aspen, I won’t do it again!” His voice was hoarse. “I… I ruined your purity, I am honor-bound to take responsibility! I will accept the Imperial marriage decree…” He tightened his grip on my wrist. “Just as we agreed before, I will leave my monastic life and marry you!” I chuckled softly, interrupting him. “Divine Child, you chose me only because you were drugged. I was merely an ‘antidote,’ nothing more. You don’t need to trouble yourself over it.” Siddhartha’s face grew even paler, as if a sharp thorn had pierced his heart. His voice trembled slightly as he called my name, urgent. “Aspen, it’s not like that! I had actually made my choice long before! The drug didn’t completely cloud my mind; I know exactly what I did and what I said!” “It’s not that I didn’t want to marry you. It’s just that I couldn’t come to terms with it myself; I had allowed worldly desires to sway me…” “My feelings for Lady Seraphina are purely gratitude! When I was young and destitute, the Vance family offered me kindness. I promised Lord Vance I would protect Lady Seraphina, that’s all it ever was.” “What you heard was not the truth, Aspen. Why didn’t you ask me? After she entered the palace, I never harbored any improper thoughts!” “Aspen, I can tell you, I regard Lady Seraphina as a benefactor, as a sister I need to protect, but not as a romantic interest…” From outside the palace hall, a collective sigh of relief echoed. “Wonderful! Her Ladyship has awakened!” Lady Seraphina, awakening in the Emperor’s arms, instinctively, weakly called out Siddhartha’s name, again and again. Siddhartha’s body instantly tensed, afraid to turn back. Outside the grand hall, the crowd gathered around the Concubine held their breath. Lady Seraphina’s maid knelt. “Your Majesty, Her Ladyship has been fainting frequently recently, with no discernible cause. There are rumors of malevolent spirits troubling the Inner Palace, many of the palace staff have witnessed them… The Divine Child, Siddhartha, with his profound Buddhist teachings and deep cultivation, is the very one Her Ladyship wished to invite into the palace to dispel these ill omens.” Lady Seraphina, now awake and nestled in the Emperor’s arms, looked towards Siddhartha. “His Majesty, it is precisely so. My body has grown weaker and weaker lately. I heard His Majesty was about to bestow a marriage upon the Divine Child, so I wanted to seize the opportunity to invite the Divine Child to the palace to dispel evil. Who knew I would collapse again right at the palace entrance?” Others might not have noticed. But I heard it clearly: Lady Seraphina emphasized the words “bestow a marriage” with particular weight. The frozen tension in the air finally dissipated. The Emperor, doting on his beloved Concubine, agreed to let Siddhartha go to her palace to dispel evil.
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