Xiao Yao Returned to Being the Tattoo Artist Xiao Liu

Xiao Yao traveled to many places in search of Xiangliu, visiting everywhere they had ever been together. Yet, she never saw that familiar figure again. She did not understand why Xiangliu had left—perhaps he had not forgiven her. Disappointed and saddened, Xiao Yao resolved to stop looking. As long as he was alive, that was enough. She decided to return to Qingshui Town and resume her life as Wen Xiao Liu. What she did not know was that Xiangliu had been silently following her all along.

Xiao Yao stood beneath the trees of Qingshui Town, the last rays of the setting sun draping her in a gentle golden glow.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the air, a mingling of herbal fragrance and the scent of cooking smoke. A profound tranquility surged within her heart.

At the moment she resolved to be Wen Xiao Liu again, it felt as if a great burden had been lifted. She lightly traced the weathered bark of the tree, each mark whispering tales of bygone years.

Turning, she stepped into a familiar alleyway lined with low wooden houses. Wisps of smoke curled upward, intertwining with the evening clouds to paint a warm, inviting scene.

Her steps grew lighter, a subtle smile lifting the corners of her lips as she entered the medicine hall, Hui Chun Tang, where the ever-present scent of herbs enveloped her.

With practiced ease, she picked up the pestle and began grinding herbs. Each strike was like a conversation with her past self—resolute and serene.

Outside the window, the occasional laughter of children drifted in. She lifted her gaze to the sky painted red by the sunset and silently vowed, “Qingshui Town, I have returned. Now, I live only for myself.”

Xiao Yao had become Wen Xiao Liu once more—the same little healer she had always been. She sat daily in Hui Chun Tang, now a qualified physician. The flood of patients kept her busy from dawn to dusk, leaving no time for idle thoughts. After her rounds, she often went to listen to stories from Grandpa Stone Spirit. Thus, months passed busily. She became familiar with the townsfolk, and Qingshui Town revealed itself as a wondrous place where humans, spirits, and deities coexisted in harmony. Every day was lively and full of warmth, and Wen Xiao Liu found great joy in this simple, reclusive life, living freely by her own will.

The evening sun poured down like molten gold, stretching their shadows long and intertwining them, as though time itself paused to witness.

The river shimmered with sparkling light, each gleam leaping with golden joy, echoing the brilliant sunset above.

Bathed in the soft golden light, Xiao Yao’s profile shimmered with newfound radiance—part shy, part serene.

Xiangliu gazed at her quietly, a tender smile gracing his lips, a smile that held countless unspoken words yet needed none.

A gentle breeze stirred, carrying the freshness of the river and the fragrance of distant flowers, softly teasing Xiao Yao’s hair and quietly weaving an invisible bond between them.

Side by side they walked, the pebble path beneath their feet seeming to soften and lengthen, each step imprinting the quiet, enduring beauty of time well lived.