His innermost thoughts were revealed, and he ventured into a fictional dynasty with the system.

Walking along the long street of the market, you see shops lining both sides, their signs fluttering in the wind—the sign of the tavern "Taibai Tower" is embroidered with gold.

The "Jinxiu Pavilion" in the cloth shop is decorated with colorful fabrics, and the "Suyi Pavilion" in the pastry shop is filled with the sweet aroma of osmanthus cake.

A peddler carrying a load walked by, shouting, "Sugar figurines, dough figurines, beautiful and delicious!" The load on his shoulders swayed as he passed by.

The "dong dong" sound of the rattle drum mingled with the hawkers' cries, echoing through the alley.

A woman dressed in coarse cloth carefully selects fabrics at a stall, her fingers stroking the plain cotton cloth as she haggles with the stall owner.

"Manager Wang, if you lower the price of this cloth by two copper coins, I'll make a new cotton-padded jacket for my child. Her clothes from last year are too short."

The stall owner smiled and shook his head: "Sister Li, this fabric is newly arrived, and I've already given you a discount. If I lower the price any further, I'll lose money!"

The child with his hair in two buns clutched a copper coin, his little hands sweating, and stared longingly at the sugar painting stall.

Watching the master twist his wrist, the melted sugar syrup flowed on the bluestone slab, instantly sketching a lifelike little rabbit with drooping ears and round, bright eyes.

The child cheered and ran towards her mother, who was not far away, holding the sugar painting. Her mother smiled and wiped the sugar stains from the corner of her mouth, then took her hand and walked home.

This bustling world, so vibrant and lively, shines brighter than the stars in the Milky Way, and every breath carries a comforting warmth.

There were peddlers' shouts, women's laughter, children's shouts, and the aroma of food, all intertwined like a warm, cozy net, enveloping the entire long street.

As Qin Qianluo gazed at all this, a gentle warmth spread across her eyes, like mutton fat jade soaked in warm water, so soft it seemed to drip with moisture.

She recalled the aroma of porridge wafting from the kitchen when she was reviewing memorials late at night in the Prince's mansion, and the sweet potatoes roasted around a campfire on a snowy night at the border.

I recall the sense of peace I felt when I heard reports of the people living in peace and prosperity in the imperial court.

She exhaled softly, a faint halo emanating from her body. Her fingertips touched the void, as if she were about to shatter the boundaries of this world and depart.

This world is wonderful, but her story has long been settled by time. Now, seeing the younger generation doing well is enough.

Xin Ziming glanced back at this small world. The setting sun was spreading over the city wall, bathing the bricks, tiles, grass, trees, and pedestrians in a warm gold.

Even the air was filled with the aroma of dinner from every household—the rich, savory flavor of braised pork belly, glistening chunks of meat simmering in the pot, their fragrance wafting for several streets.

It has the refreshing taste of green vegetables and tofu. The tender white tofu and bright green vegetables are tumbling in the pot, exuding a homely flavor.

There's also the smooth, creamy rice porridge, the aroma of rice mixed with the sweetness of water, which makes you feel warm just by smelling it.

She lazily shook the loose ends of her silver hair, the strands fluttering softly in the wind like threads woven from moonlight, and caught up with Qin Qianluo in a few steps.

The last syllable was drawn out, like a cat's paw gently scratching at one's heart: "You're leaving already? Won't you stay a little longer?"

Look at those wild chrysanthemums at the alley entrance; they'll be withered in a few days. Why don't you leave them to see their last moments?

Where else are you planning to go? I'm going to the East China Sea to see the corals. I've heard that the thousand-year-old corals in the East China Sea can reflect past events.

Let's go to the Western Regions to find snow lotus. The snow lotus in the Western Regions blooms on snow-capped mountains and is whiter than the clouds in the sky.

Oh, right—

She suddenly stopped, her eyes narrowed slightly with a mischievous glint in them, as if she had discovered something amusing.

"Don't you plan to search for Su Jinyun's reincarnation?"

The wind carried her words across the clouds, startling a few returning geese. They flew in a V-formation, their wingtips slicing through the evening glow.

The sunset was as red as fire, and as red as a ripe pomegranate, layer upon layer, so beautiful that it was impossible to look away.

The cries of wild geese, clear and melodious, traveled from the clouds all the way down to the human world, as if adding a touch of lingering charm to Qin Qianluo's silence, gently rippling in the twilight and lingering for a long time.

Qin Qianluo paused, a complex emotion flashing in her eyes like a pebble thrown into a lake, creating ripples, but quickly returning to calm.

He simply gazed at the distant sunset and sighed softly. In that sigh, there seemed to be both nostalgia and relief.

Qin Qianlu gazed at the last rays of sunset on the distant horizon—the sunset was like rouge that had been crushed, mixed with a touch of molten gold warmth.

It was slowly sinking into the inky night, and even the clouds on the horizon were tinged from crimson to deep purple.

She paused slightly, her clothes fluttering gently in the wind like a cloud about to drift away.

She didn't turn around to look at Xin Zimo beside her. Her voice was as light as the wind that swept across the lake in early autumn, yet it carried an undeniable certainty.

Each word fell to the wind: "Go now."

Without hesitation or unnecessary words, it was as if the thought of "finding Su Jinyun's reincarnation" had long been hidden in his heart, just waiting for an opportunity to be revealed.

After she finished speaking, she slowly turned her eyes to the side, her gaze falling on Xin Ziming's swaying fox tail.

The nine snow-white tails were casually sweeping through the air, their tips occasionally brushing against the wisps of cloud beside them.

As if passing the time while traveling, even the loose ends of her silver hair swayed along with it.

Qin Qianluo's tone was somewhat casual, but her eyes held a subtle hint of probing: "And you? Are you planning to stay with me forever?"

Don't forget, the responsibilities you bear are not something you can simply relinquish.

The wind carried her words away, with the lingering warmth of the sunset and a subtle, almost imperceptible tenderness—like a thawed stream in spring, clear and gentle.

The tone seemed to be urging her to go back and take on her responsibilities, asking her "when will you leave?", but upon closer listening, it was clear that she was quietly waiting for an answer.

An answer that says, "It won't bother me if I follow you."

Even the last rays of sunset seemed to slow their dissipation, and the wind stopped beside the two of them, quietly waiting for Xin Ziming's response.

Xin Zimo stopped abruptly, and her nine snow-white fox tails stood up all at once.

It swayed gently like a reed in the wind, the white hairs at the tip of its tail shimmering in the twilight.

She raised a brow with her fox-like eyes, and the small beauty mark at the corner of her eye lit up. Her tone was full of disdain, and even the end of her sentence had a hint of sullenness.

Like a little beast whose tail has been stepped on but still tries to bristle: "What good person would want to be tied up with chores every day?"

Even who stole whose thousand-year-old Ganoderma lucidum, and who was arguing by the stream about whose spiritual power was more advanced, I have to settle the score!

I've been in the heavens for three hundred years, and my ears are practically calloused from all this nagging.

I finally found an excuse to sneak out and follow you to see the smoke rising from the ancient alleys, the rice seedlings on the ridges of the fields, and the sugar paintings on the long street.

"You want me to go back and listen to that nagging? Only a fool would do that!"

She tied a loose knot around the dangling silver ribbon in her hair with her fingertips, and the ribbon swayed softly in the wind.

Like a silver snake swimming in the twilight, it occasionally brushed against the jade bracelet on her wrist, making a soft "ding" sound.

His eyes darted around, a sly glint in his amber pupils, as if he had suddenly hatched a brilliant plan.

The next second, she suddenly leaned forward, her shoulder almost touching Qin Qianluo's arm, her breath carrying the unique peach blossom honey scent of Qingqiu, and she smiled like a fox that had just stolen a beehive.

With a wide smile and a glint of light in her eyes, she said, "In this life, Su Jinyun was born into a scholarly family in Suzhou, Jiangnan, and her name is Su Wan, right?"

I passed through Suzhou the other day and specifically asked the local earth god. He said that the girl was lucky and was born into the Su family, which had been officials for generations.

Her parents love her, her brothers protect her, and she still has a long life ahead of her—at least seventy or eighty more years to live—what's the rush?

I have nowhere else to go. Those old guys in the heavens are keeping an eye on things, so there's no chance of trouble. I don't need to guard them every day.

I'll wander around with you first, then you can go to Jiangnan to find her, and I'll follow you to see the small bridges, flowing water, white walls, and black tiles of Suzhou.

If you want to see all the wonders of the four seasons in the world—whether it's peach blossoms in Jiangnan in spring, grasslands in the north in summer, red leaves in Beijing in autumn, or plum blossoms in Lingnan in winter—I'll go with you.

By the way... I can also keep an eye on Su Wan for you, so that if you wander off somewhere and forget about her, I can send you a message.

It's so convenient to tell you what poems she read today and which garden she visited tomorrow!

At this point, she subtly changed the subject, softening her voice, like cotton soaked in warm water, her tone carrying a hint of casual probing.

The last syllable of her voice was like a thin thread, gently hooking one's ear, or like the tip of her tail, which was secretly curled up in her sleeve, softly rubbing against Qin Qianluo's cuff.

With a hint of barely perceptible expectation: "But you, after Su Su Jin Yun's hundred-year life, when your earthly ties are severed and you are no longer bound by birth, aging, sickness and death, where do you plan to go?"

Will we continue to drift among the earth as we are now, witnessing the sunrises and sunsets, and the rise and fall of dynasties in every era?

Let's find a place with beautiful mountains and clear waters, like Zhuwu in Jiangnan, plant a yard full of jasmine, and sit on a bamboo chair in the summer to listen to the cicadas.

Or perhaps in the snow-capped mountains of the Western Regions, you could build a wooden cabin, sit around a fireplace in winter, brew tea, watch the snow fall, settle down, and enjoy a few peaceful days undisturbed?

The evening breeze gently swept over the pale pink downy hairs that weren't properly hidden behind her ears. The downy hairs were soft and fluffy, like newly sprouted buds, with a light pink hue that shone brightly in the twilight.

More vibrant than the red lanterns that used to hang under the eaves, and softer than the lingering glow of the sunset.

It was as if crushed starlight had been scattered on it, and even the wind couldn't help but swirl around the fluffy surface.

A faint blush crept onto her fair cheeks, spreading from the tips of her ears down to her chin, as if she were being gently warmed by the lingering heat of the sunset, causing her to slow her breathing.

That barely concealed anticipation of sneaking out to play slowly spread in my eyes, like a pebble thrown into a lake, creating gentle ripples.

Even the fox tail behind him forgot to sway, hanging quietly at his side, waiting for Qin Qianluo's answer.

Qin Qianlu gazed at the fleeting illusion of time and space before her—the vermilion palace walls blurred into a hazy outline in the twilight.

The copper bells hanging under the gray-tiled eaves seem to sway gently in the wind, and the shop signs in the market are a mix of old and new, with the air itself carrying the atmosphere of different dynasties.

It has the rusty, earthy scent of the bronze tripod in front of Xianyang Palace, the sweet fragrance of the willows along Chang'an Street, and the aroma of grain transported along the Bian River.