Original God Zhongli BG Xiao Qinglong traveled through time

Morning mist wove a shark silk in the sky above Konda Village. Xiao Gong half-knelt in front of the Naganohara workshop, and the gilded saltpeter condensed into strange dragon scale patterns in the bamboo tube. Every time the fuse burned to seven inches, it suddenly went out, as if the stars were pinched out by an invisible hand. The girl's coral-colored braids fell on her shoulders, and saltpeter powder condensed into frost on her eyelashes.

"Need a rock element to solidify?" Before Ying finished speaking, a silver-gray afterimage had already passed over the branches of the sacred cherry tree. Xizhi hooked the wind element and jumped onto the torii. The rock pattern of the golden bell at the end of his tail was exactly a variation of the layered rock seal formation, but the moment he touched the bamboo tube -

“Don’t touch!”

The moment the jade light sank into the barrel, the memories of five hundred years ago surged like the earth veins. Lin Huan saw the rock fire ignited on her fingertips, and Fushe in the seal array was smiling at her. The sparks bursting from the thunder wedge piercing her chest overlapped with the trajectory of the fireworks at this moment. In the explosive gilded rain of fire, the scorched and curled cat tail hair revealed the old scars eroded by the abyss, which looked like the burn marks left on her back when Ruo Tuo broke through the seal.

"So immortals can also be frightened by their own magic?" Xiao Gong's laughter penetrated the smoke, and the flame earrings swayed into two small suns in the morning light. Children gathered around holding goldfish lanterns, and a boy wearing a Tengu mask stretched out his burned fingertips: "Look! I caught the firefly!" The smile with blood mixed with tears stung Lin Huan's sealed memory - before Fushe disappeared, he smiled like this and stuffed the Eye of God into her palm.

Xizhi leaped onto the branch of the sacred cherry tree with his back bent, and his claw marks left a crooked “danger” on the bark. Amid the swaying shadows of the trees, the rock barrier of the rock abyss five hundred years ago was collapsing in the sea of consciousness. Boyang held up his broken sword and roared, “Ahuan, hurry up!” The sound resonated with the sea breeze at this moment. Ying’s fingertips stroked her trembling spine, and the rock elemental force gently combed away the reverse scales: “You see, it hurts when a spark falls on your palm—but the children are laughing.”

Xiao Gong suddenly stuffed the fire starter into the cat's paw. The crescent-shaped scratch on the girl's palm was still oozing blood. "How boring it is to use magic!" She pulled the gunpowder rope as if she was unpacking a New Year's gift. "This is how real fireworks should be played--"

The sea breeze swept past my ears with the sound of counting. Xizhi loosened his claws at the end of the word "three", and the trajectory of the burning fuse overlapped with the runes of the seal array that year. When the fireworks rose to the highest point, Xiaogong waved his bandaged hand: "Bloom!"

Thousands of rock crystals formed a glazed lily that tore through the night sky, and each petal reflected the smile of the deceased. Boyang's shadow blinked at the pistil, and Fushe's thunder wedge turned into a swaying calyx. Lin Huan looked at the gilded scar of the dragon's horn in the fireworks, and suddenly realized that the deepest scar could also produce a halo.

"Does it hurt?" She stared at the bandage on the back of Xiao Gong's hand, her voice muffled by the fur.

The girl shook the wound and lit a new fuse: "This scar will become the pattern of the firework mold!" In the firelight, the flame pendant on her earlobe resonated with the teardrop mole at the corner of Lin Huan's eye, "After the mass production of "Fairy Cat Fire Tube" -"

Xizhi suddenly extinguished the fuse and pressed Xiaogong's nose with his paw pad: "Call the Lin Huan brand!"

The sea breeze suddenly died down. Ying saw the stars flickering in the cat's vertical pupils, and suddenly realized that this was the first time in five hundred years that she had spoken her real name. Farther away, Ying stood quietly under the sacred cherry tree, the lightning on her fingertips condensed into unshed tears, and her amethyst-like eyes reflected a certain eternally frozen rainy night - when the newly born doll curled up in the borrowed scenery garden, holding an extinguished firework tube in her arms.

"Try again." Xiao Gong wrapped the fuse around the cat's tail, and lightly touched Lin Huan's brow with his smoky fingers, "Look at the children's eyes."

Looking in the direction she pointed, the boy wearing a Tengu mask was dipping his burned fingers into the spring water. In the shimmering water, Lin Huan five hundred years ago saw himself kneeling by the Qingce Village Stream, trembling as he washed the blood off Hu Xingzhi's armor. The water ripples at that time overlapped with the current one, but there was an extra pair of tender little hands holding herbs.

"Hold it like this." Xiao Gong held the gunpowder rope tightly with his cat's claws, and the calluses on his palms rubbed the rock crystals. "When the sparks climb up, it will itch, just like when my father combed my hair when I was a child."

When the fuse burned to seven inches, Xizhi instinctively arched his back and his fur stood up. Xiaogong suddenly hummed a ritual tune, and the melody startled the crystal butterflies perched on Lei Yingying's sleeves. Those translucent wings swept over the cat's ears, and the scattered phosphorus powder drew the pattern of the butterfly of the dead on the fuse.

"burst!"

The moment the rock crystal lily bloomed again, Lin Huan saw clearly that each petal was a layer of time - the lightning when Fushe dissipated became the veins of the flower, the last sparks of Hu Xingzhi's medicine furnace condensed into dewdrops, and the blood rust on Boyang's broken sword dyed a bright red edge. The boy wearing a Tengu mask tiptoed to reach the falling petals, and his burned fingers seemed to be holding stars in the flowing light.

"This scar," Xiao Gong shook her bandaged hand, "will become the most special firework mold for next year's festival." She suddenly lifted the cat above her head, "Should we name it 'The Fairy Cat's Atonement'?"

Xizhi suddenly struggled to the ground, and the golden bell on the tip of his tail smashed the moonlight all over the ground. Ying watched her write the word "Lin Huan" on the scorched earth, and the crooked strokes oozed out the clear spring water from the ground. The spring water reflected the newly tied ema on the sacred cherry tree, and a familiar handwriting read: "May a certain stupid dragon learn to light fireworks with a smile."

When the morning light pierced the sea level, Xiao Gong held the cat's paw and carved the last pattern on the mold. The boy wearing a Tengu mask ran over to offer wild berries, and the bright red juice dripped through his fingers onto the three words "Lin Huan Brand", just like the first ray of morning glow in the abyss of rock five hundred years ago.

"Would you like to try it?" Xiao Gong put the berry to the tip of Mao'er's nose. "It's like fireworks, sour and bitter before it becomes sweet."

The sea breeze swept the rising sun across the workshop, and the bamboo tubes that had been extinguished suddenly blossomed. In the myriad of streams of light, Lin Huan saw himself standing on the top of Qingyun Peak five hundred years ago, and finally had the courage to light the belated Hai Lantern Festival fireworks.