December 1st was Yu Zhiling’s birthday—today, she turned eighteen.
Winter in Beicheng was bitterly cold. Once late November passed, snowfall became a common sight.
Bundled up in a long down coat that reached her calves and wearing a pair of fluffy snow boots, she stepped out of the apartment building. A gust of icy wind rushed at her, and Yu Zhiling instinctively shrank into her scarf, tightening it around her neck.
A special notification chimed, prompting her to pull out her phone.
A message from Mo Zhu popped up: "Are you out yet?"
Walking as she typed, Yu Zhiling replied: "Just left."
"It’s minus three degrees there, light snow. Did you dress warmly? Did you bring an umbrella?"
Yu Zhiling smiled and raised her phone to snap a quick selfie.
She covered her face with a sticker before sending it. In the photo, she wore a woolen cap that snugly covered her ears, wrapped in a deep green plaid scarf. Her black down coat, though dark in color, couldn’t mask the vibrant energy radiating from her.
Mo Zhu fell silent for a moment after receiving the photo. He could see the handle of an umbrella in her hand—she had brought one, and she was dressed warmly enough.
Still uneasy, he added: "Be careful on your way. Take the subway—Line 3 goes straight there."
Yu Zhiling sent back a little bear sticker: "Got it."
The chat screen lingered on that photo, her face hidden behind the sun sticker, yet he could perfectly picture her expression.
He visited her once every month without fail. That single outing each month was reserved solely for her.
His living room was sparsely furnished—just a deep black sofa and a marble table. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, a dense bamboo grove stretched out. Snow had been falling for two days, dusting the branches with delicate white flakes that drifted lazily to the ground.
The underfloor heating kept the room warm, and he wore only a loose knit sweater. No lights were on. Sinking into the plush sofa, he gazed outside, his reflection faintly visible in the glass—sharp features, high cheekbones, and cold, distant eyes. A face that had fully matured, edged with severity but dominated by detachment.
Eighteen years had passed since he arrived here. So much time had slipped by. He’d learned the language, adapted to the customs, even embraced the modern ways of living.
Mo Zhu leaned back, his eyes drifting to the ceiling, unfocused, as if staring through it into nothingness.
The years stretched so long that sometimes he almost believed he’d become one of them—a person of this era. Only the recurring dreams of bloodshed and death reminded him: Don’t forget. Don’t lose yourself.
He had to protect her. He had to take her back—back to her home, where she could live a healthy, peaceful life.
She was everyone’s hope. She was the reason he kept breathing.
The silence was overwhelming. No message alerts, no voice notes from her gaming sessions, no random videos she’d share throughout the day. When she was busy with her own life, his world became like this:
Quiet. Still. Soundless.
Mo Zhu lay there for hours, until the last traces of daylight faded outside and the unlit living room plunged into complete darkness.
Then, a soft ding broke the stillness—his phone screen flickered to life beside him.
Blinking slowly, his throat tightening, he finally moved for the first time in three hours, unlocking his phone to find the chat still open on her messages.
Little Fish: [I'm here. There are still two hours until the movie starts, but there's an esports center nearby. I think I'll go play for a bit.]
She added a cute sticker of a bunny offering flowers.
Mo Zhu replied: [Go ahead, have fun.]
He picked a matching bunny sticker from his collection and sent it back.
Every day, aside from sleeping, he stayed by his phone, waiting for her messages—always quick to respond.
Little Fish: [It's my first time seeing someone celebrate a birthday at an esports center. A little boy was having his birthday party, so I wished him a happy birthday. His parents gave me a small piece of cake—wow!]
She sent a photo of the cake.
Mo Zhu chuckled and asked: [What flavor?]
Little Fish: [Hold on, let me take a bite.]
A moment later, she added: [Mmm, I think it's blueberry. Really good!]
She shared her joy over the cake, describing the boy’s birthday celebration in detail—how his parents had chosen the esports center because he loved it, bought his favorite cake, and gifted him the toy race car he’d been dreaming of.
As Mo Zhu read her messages, the cold text on the screen carried her happiness—but he also sensed something she was deliberately hiding.
Envy.
After turning thirteen, when Dean Xu passed away, no one had celebrated her birthday again.
At sixteen, he’d added her as a contact and sent birthday wishes and gifts for her sixteenth and seventeenth birthdays.
Today, she turned eighteen. Still alone.
She envied that little boy.
Mo Zhu sat quietly for a long time. She must have gone to play games—after his last reply, she stopped messaging.
His phone screen dimmed. He stirred, then stood up.
The door, shut for over half a month, finally opened. Mo Zhu stepped outside. The villa sat halfway up the mountain, secluded and quiet, with few residents.
He made his way down and hailed a car.
By the time he reached the cinema, the movie was about to start. Standing at a distance, he spotted Yu Zhiling instantly in the crowd—even dressed plainly, she stood out to him.
He watched as she bought a bucket of popcorn and a cup of hot milk tea.
Then he bought a ticket for himself, choosing a seat just two rows behind hers. The screening wasn’t crowded, so he could easily glance over and see her.
She loved comedies, laughing freely—adorable. Mo Zhu could even hear her giggles.
His phone lit up with her message:
Little Fish: [It’s pretty good! I recommend it—so funny.]
Mo Zhu’s lips curved slightly as he typed: [Alright, I’ll go watch it tomorrow.]
He stayed through the movie, keeping that two-row distance.
When it ended, Yu Zhiling waited until the post-credits scenes finished before leaving. By then, the theater was nearly empty. Head bowed, she typed a message—Mo Zhu, walking a short distance behind, knew instantly it was for him.
Little Fish: [Off to eat now. I’m trying that hot pot place—their spicy broth is super popular.]
Mo Zhu replied: [Okay, but you can’t handle spice.]
Little Fish: [I know, I know! I’ll get the mushroom broth.]
She even sent an angry little rabbit sticker.
Mo Zhu replied with a head-patting emoji.
He didn’t want to dampen her mood, and he knew he shouldn’t always nag her—reminding her to eat lightly, rest more, dress warmly, avoid catching a cold, stay away from late nights, and not overwork herself.
But her health didn’t allow for carelessness. He was terrified of her feeling even the slightest discomfort.
She was his only family left.
Mo Zhu entered the hotpot restaurant with her, located right above the esports center. Sitting diagonally across from her, he watched as she ordered a table full of dishes.
He knew she had a big appetite, and that she would finish everything she ordered—Yu Zhiling never wasted food.
Mo Zhu also chose a mushroom broth base like hers but didn’t order nearly as much. To him, everything tasted the same these days; his appetite was poor, and he could go days without eating a bite.
Forty minutes later, Yu Zhiling leaned back in her chair, planning to rest for a moment before leaving.
Then a delivery rider appeared at the entrance, calling out, "Order for Ms. Little Fish, phone ending in 3139—your cake is here!"
Yu Zhiling, still mid-meal, froze for a second before her phone buzzed with a message.
Ah Gui: [Ordered a cake for you. Eat it here—someone’s celebrating your birthday today.]
The rider’s voice was loud, drawing the attention of the entire restaurant. Flustered, Yu Zhiling hurried to accept the cake.
It was enormous—two whole tiers. The staff helped her carry it to the table, lit the candles, and smiled as they wished her, "Happy birthday!"
Yu Zhiling blushed and thanked them, stopping the server before they left to hand them a slice.
At the table behind her sat a family. The mother, noticing Yu Zhiling’s youth and the "Happy 18th Birthday" written on the cake, exchanged a glance with her husband—a silent understanding passing between them.
"Happy 18th birthday!" she cheered.
Their child chimed in excitedly, "Happy birthday, big sister!"
One voice sparked many.
The world was full of warm-hearted people, and soon, the entire hotpot restaurant erupted in birthday wishes for her.
Finally, Mo Zhu finished his meal and walked over. He found Yu Zhiling with her head bowed, cheeks flushed, surrounded by children as she deftly sliced the cake.
Speaking to her as a stranger for the very first time, he said,
"Happy birthday."
Happy birthday, Shizun.
Yu Zhiling looked up. The man before her wore a long black coat, a gray scarf draped around his neck, his dark hair slightly tousled, his features sharp and handsome, his tall frame lean yet imposing.
She froze—not because of his striking looks, but because of his gaze.
Those beautiful eyes watched her, smiling, yet she felt…
They hid too much.
A weight of emotions, complex and heavy—as if he carried a deep sorrow.
By the time she snapped out of it, he was already gone.
Yu Zhiling stood there, holding a slice of cake meant for him but never given.
Mo Zhu’s two-tiered cake was just enough to share with everyone in the restaurant.
Later, Yu Zhiling stepped outside, holding up a stack of sticky notes. She snapped a photo and sent it to Mo Zhu.
[Thank you for the cake, Ah Gui. I got so many wishes today!]
Those notes were filled with messages from the diners—she would treasure them forever.
From a distance, Mo Zhu stood watching, his eyes softening as she smiled, her joy lighting up the night.
She stepped out of the mall, snowflakes dusting her hair. Seemingly chilled, she pulled on a knit cap, tucking even her ears beneath it, bundling herself into a fuzzy little ball.
She couldn’t afford to catch a cold—her body was far weaker than most. Even a minor cold could worsen dangerously for her.
Yu Zhiling bought a bouquet of flowers from a roadside stall, a gift for herself, a celebration of making it to eighteen.
She passed by Mo Zhu without a glance, her smile radiant as she cradled the flowers and walked away. The cold wind carried her scent to him—bitter herbs and the sweetness of eustoma. His keen senses, honed as a teng snake, caught every note.
He watched her retreat. This was the closest they’d been since he’d left her at the orphanage.
Mo Zhu didn’t dare approach her, terrified of bringing her misfortune. For eighteen years, he’d guarded her from afar with meticulous care. Only today, unable to bear her celebrating alone, had he allowed himself this proximity, yearning to share in her rebirth.
She’d made it to eighteen, even when everyone had sworn she wouldn’t.
The other world was nearly restored, yet Mo Zhu remained unchanged.
He lived in seclusion, deep in the mountains, a sprawling villa empty save for himself.
His days were spent sleeping or meditating. Without spiritual energy here, cultivation was impossible—just idle contemplation.
When messages popped up, he replied with measured warmth, neither too intimate nor distant.
"Good morning, Little Yu."
"Have you eaten, Little Yu?"
"The weather is lovely today, Little Yu."
"Are you in the hospital again, Little Yu?"
"This too shall pass, Little Yu."
Everything would pass—the illness, the loneliness.
Just a little longer. Wait a little longer, and they’d all return to life. She wouldn’t be left with nothing.
A healthy body. The love of family and friends. A happy home.
She’d have it all.
Yu Zhiling would have everything.
Before she turned sixteen, he’d been like a stone statue, solitary in the mountains, only stirring to life on the fifteenth of each month. Then, he’d emerge from the wilderness, venturing to the city to glimpse her outside the orphanage gates or in hospital corridors.
A single glance was enough—enough to fuel him for another month.
He watched her grow, from a little girl with pigtails and overalls to a ponytailed teen in hoodies and jeans.
Their sun had once fallen, but now, in another world, she was rising slowly from the horizon.
And so he endured, month after month, year after year.
Until the day Yu Zhiling stood on a hospital rooftop at sixteen. Mo Zhu, below, saw her silhouette and nearly lost his mind.
What if she jumped?
He’d go mad.
He’d die.
He’d lost too many already. At fifty-three, he was young for a teng snake, yet since the age of seven, he’d known no peace. Death had taken everyone dear, and she was their last hope.
When he’d plunged into the abyss, he’d never intended to survive. At his lowest, he’d seen it—a sacred lotus, cradling the hopes of them all.
He lived for her. She was his purpose. And now she sought death?
An elderly woman in the opposite building spotted Yu Zhiling. One word from her brought the girl back.
She sobbed as she carefully climbed down from the rooftop, her legs trembling uncontrollably before collapsing weakly to her knees.
Yu Zhiling slapped herself twice across the face, and Mo Zhu did the same.
He was the one who had been wrong.
He could endure loneliness—had even grown accustomed to solitude. During those twenty years of being hunted, he had nearly forgotten how to speak.
But Yu Zhiling couldn’t.
She needed companionship, needed love, needed someone to whisper to her when the pain became unbearable:
"There are people waiting for you in the future. All of this will pass."
So Mo Zhu dug out his rarely used phone and became "A'Gui."
Longing for your return, praying for your spirit to come home.
Grow up safe and sound, and come back to them soon.
Yan Shanqing, Ning Hengwu, Xiang Wuxue, Mei Qiongge, Yun Zhi, Wu Zhaoyan, Liu Guizheng, the Jiang family, the people of Jinghong Village, and even Chaotian Lotus—
The entire Central Continent was waiting for her return.
From the moment Yu Zhiling turned sixteen, Mo Zhu—who had been a motionless statue for sixteen years—came back to life.
His days now revolved around one vital mission.
Replying earnestly to her messages, encouraging her to fight against her illness, preparing small holiday gifts for her, reminding her to take care of herself. He even linked his phone to her smart wristband, monitoring her health around the clock.
But above all else—
Companionship.
Giving her companionship.
He had to give her as much of it as he could. Unable to see her, this was the only way he could stay by her side.
A'Gui existed for "Little Fish," and Mo Zhu existed to keep Yu Zhiling alive.
He would watch her grow up, bring her back to that other world, and give everyone a home.
Many years ago, she had taken his hand and led him back to Ying Mountain.
Now, decades later, he would guide her—lost and wandering—back to Ying Mountain once more.
Every time he called her "Little Fish," he whispered in his heart:
Shifu.
Shifu, I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you.
Shifu, keep living—live to see the next spring.
Shifu, come back, return to all of us.
Come home soon.
Save them all, please. Come back to us.
Keep being his shifu, keep being Ying Mountain’s Yu Xiao Wu, keep being their family.
Live again—for all of them, live one more time.
