The fine rain was like silk, as two figures stood side by side, one tall, one short.

Hearing that the inscription was truly his own epitaph, Lu Yuandi silently retracted half of her umbrella, leaving Tao Mian inevitably drenched by the rain.

Tao Mian: ...

"Don't be so stingy. You can carve mine too, as a gesture of reciprocity."

He was quite magnanimous about it.

Lu Yuandi clearly didn't want to dwell on this topic. She tilted her head to the left, and Gu Yuan's tombstone came into view.

"Today is Senior Brother Gu's memorial day."

"...Hmm."

Lu Yuandi had never seen Senior Brother Gu alive. Of everything about Gu Yuan, Tao Mian had recounted seventy percent, and she had privately investigated the remaining thirty percent.

Gu Yuan was a capable person. His talent was enough to support his ambition, and ruthlessness and cold-bloodedness were the double-edged swords that helped him cut through obstacles. He also bore a tragic past and resolutely chose revenge. In Lu Yuandi's eyes, he was exactly like herself. She understood every seemingly vicious move Gu Yuan made far more than Tao Mian did. They naturally assumed the worst of others, believing that leaving future troubles was akin to betraying oneself.

Lu Yuandi even knew about the incident with the Huo Family back then. Gu Yuan had annihilated the Huo clan, and Shi Fu Tao Mian was furious because of it, nearly severing their master-disciple relationship. Gu Yuan had humbly sought Tao Mian's forgiveness for years. But Lu Yuandi knew he certainly didn't think he was wrong; if it were her, she would have done the same.

She would have done it more discreetly, at least not letting Tao Mian find out.

But then she thought, back then, Tao Mian would still get angry, whereas now, he was indifferent to everything.

"I remember when I was young, every year on this day, you would go up the mountain alone and not let me come with you."

Lu Yuandi instinctively moved the umbrella back over Tao Mian's head, watching him wipe the mud spots off the tombstone with a cloth.

"Didn't you find it annoying? The first time I brought you here, you complained and said you'd never come again."

"Who keeps a child at a grave for hours telling stories," Lu Yuandi recalled with some helplessness, "and wouldn't let them leave until they finished listening."

"Ahem, Shi Fu was just brimming with talent, feeling stifled."

"Later, when you wouldn't let me come, I secretly followed you twice."

"...I always said you were a rebellious child from the start."

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"I saw you getting drunk in front of Senior Brother's grave."

At that time, Lu Yuandi was young, and her most painful daily task was getting up early. Fortunately, Shi Fu didn't rush her, as Tao Mian was even more of a late riser.

But she knew there was one day a year when Tao Mian wouldn't go back to sleep, and that was Senior Brother's memorial day.

One day, she resolved to follow Tao Mian, going up the mountain on Gu Yuan's memorial day to hear what heartfelt words Shi Fu had to say to Senior Brother. Afraid of oversleeping, she woke up in the middle of the night and dared not go back to sleep, keeping her eyes open until she heard the sound of someone getting up and putting on boots in the next room.

Through a paper-thin window, she saw a blurry figure push the door open and leave, and she quickly climbed out of bed, like a little mouse stealing oil, carefully following Tao Mian.

She knew the exact location of Gu Yuan's grave, having scouted it out in advance, and lay hidden in a patch of low shrubs.

Tao Mian was a bit far from her, but the mountain was quiet, so hearing what he said was not a problem.

At that time, Shi Fu was far from being as composed and skilled as he was now. He missed a few blades of grass while weeding, didn't have enough water to clean the tombstone, and there were no offerings, but he did bring plenty of wine.

It wasn't that he couldn't do it well; he just wasn't in the mood.

After hastily completing the initial steps, he finally reached the stage of toasting. Tao Mian's movements in pouring the wine were almost overly practiced, one cup for his disciple, one for himself.

He said, "Yi Gou, I'll drink first as a sign of respect."

He drank it down.

"This cup is for you."

He poured it out.

One cup for him, one for Gu Yuan. One cup for Gu Yuan, one for him. The ground in front of the grave was soaked with the smell of alcohol, and Tao Mian was drunk too.

"When you got drunk, you would hug the tombstone and cry."

Barring instances of laziness or seeking sympathy from disciples, Tao Mian was someone who never shed tears, or so Lu Yuandi used to think.

It turned out Shi Fu also had moments of such deep pain.

He said nothing, his heart full of words stuck in his throat, making the scene before him all the more sorrowful.

Young Lu Yuandi counted on her fingers: Gu Yuan died at thirty-two, about forty years later Tao Mian adopted her, and then another three or four years passed.

Decades later, Tao Mian still couldn't move past Gu Yuan's death.

Lu Yuandi thought, perhaps this was the price of immortality. Decades, which for mortals were nearly a lifetime, were but a fleeting moment for an Immortal Being. The pain that mortals could overcome in a few years took Immortal Beings decades to dissipate.

"On my way here, I was wondering how Little Tao would feel standing before Gu Yuan's grave now. It seems that pain has faded for you."

Raindrops pattered on the umbrella, making a soft rustling sound.

Under the umbrella, Tao Mian looked back at the lone tombstone not far away, clean and serene, like a young man in plain clothes sitting quietly.

"It shouldn't be said that it has faded."

The Immortal gently shook his head.

He said that memories are a strange thing. In the first year after Gu Yuan's death, he thought of not being able to see him one last time, and it was unbearable. In the fifth year, the argument between master and disciple often lingered in his mind, thinking if only he had said this or that. In the tenth year, he would recall the disciple who had just left the mountain, wondering if the isolated young man had suffered much. If only he hadn't been so stubborn, if only he could have accompanied him a little longer...

Then came twenty years, thirty years, forty years...

Later, those memories, mixed with regret and remorse, gradually gave way. Tao Mian began to remember the first sixteen years of Gu Yuan's life. He remembered the young man practicing swordplay, from the dewy mornings to the evenings when birds returned to the forest. He remembered the path covered in mountain flowers, the boy following behind him with an armful of flowers, wobbling as he walked. He remembered every argument between master and disciple, the stubborn Yi Gou who couldn't out-argue him, sitting on the high threshold with his face in his hands, sulking. He remembered the toddler who had just learned to speak, who didn't call for parents, but whose first word was "Tao," because everyone in the village called him Tao Shi Fu, Taoist Tao, Tao Immortal, and Gu Yuan learned by ear.

Finally, he recalled that sunny afternoon, rushing to the creek with a Reed Flower Chicken in his arms, a wooden basin floating down the stream, coming to him.

He held the bewildered infant, grinning from ear to ear, saying, "My disciple will surely achieve great things."

"Time, it weeds out the chaff and keeps the essence. In the end, how is it that only the good stories remain?"

Tao Mian raised his hand, gently caressing Gu Yuan's tombstone.

Lu Yuandi gazed at Shi Fu's profile. Perhaps it was the fine rain soaking his clothes, but in her eyes, Tao Mian's features seemed softened.

She thought how fortunate Gu Yuan was, that even if the world forgot the once-renowned Cyan Vast Sect, he held a place in this person's heart, as enduring as time itself.

"Little Tao," she asked, "will you also miss me like this one day?"

Miss a greedy villain, a person who takes an inch and wants a mile.

Tao Mian glanced at her and said—

"I hope that day comes as late as possible."

May nothing be lacking, and may you receive all the blessings of heaven. I hope you can live a life full of joy and peace.

Lu Yuandi's grip on the umbrella tightened suddenly, her eyes reddened, rippling with emotion, which she quickly suppressed. Her willow-leaf eyebrows furrowed and then relaxed, a bitter smile playing on her lips.

Precisely because you are so good, I have nowhere to place my regrets.