I was a mineral prospector in Chengdu, who transmigrated into the body of a mortal sword immortal.

The afterglow of the setting sun tinged the stone lions in front of the Cui residence with a dark gold color, and also highlighted the features of Li Bai's instantly pale face.

His knuckles, gripping the silk-wrapped fabric tightly, turned white from the force, and his fingertips even sank slightly into the soft fabric.

Zhang Ji's seemingly casual words were like nails hardened with ice, piercing his eardrums, his mind, and causing the string deep within his soul, which had always been taut for Yang Xiaohuan, to emit a buzzing sound on the verge of breaking.

Duan Qiniang sensed the sudden change in his aura. It wasn't just shock; it was more like a dazed and painful experience of being struck hard by the hammer of fate.

She instinctively reached out and gently touched his arm, which was icy cold to the touch.

"Li Lang?" Her voice was filled with worry, her gaze quickly sweeping between Li Bai and Zhang Ji.

Zhang Ji seemed oblivious to Li Bai's unusual behavior, or perhaps he was aware but simply maintained his perfectly measured smile, nodding slightly: "These are just rumors circulating in the streets, Brother Li need not concern himself with them. It's getting late, I shall take my leave now." With that, he bowed respectfully, turned and departed, the hem of his blue robe swaying gently in the evening breeze, quickly disappearing into the depths of Chongrenfang's streets and alleys.

"Li Lang, you..." Duan Qiniang helped Li Bai onto the carriage. The carriage was dimly lit, and she could only see the taut outline of his profile, as if it were carved from stone.

"Chengdu... Yang's daughter..." Li Bai's voice was dry, as if squeezed from the depths of his throat, "Seventh Sister, have you ever heard of her?"

The carriage slowly started moving, its wheels making a rhythmic clattering sound as they rolled over the cobblestones. The carriage was filled with the mixed scents of leather and incense, along with the faint fragrance of orchids emanating from Duan Qiniang. These scents, which usually brought him some peace of mind, could not dispel the growing gloom in his heart at this moment.

Duan Qiniang hesitated for a moment, her slender fingers unconsciously stroking the embroidery on her cuffs: "Jin Guan City... that's another name for Chengdu in Shu. As for the Yang family daughter..." She frowned, "I've lived in Chang'an for a long time and don't know much about Shu. However, a few days ago I heard a merchant from Shu mention that the Yang family in Chengdu has a niece who is just of marriageable age, with stunning beauty, and is proficient in all the arts, including music, chess, calligraphy, and painting. She's quite famous in Shu. Do you know her, Li Lang?"

Yang Xuangui.

Yang Yuhuan's uncle.

Li Bai felt as if an invisible hand was gripping his heart tightly, making it difficult to breathe. The carriage suddenly seemed small and cramped, the thin air making him dizzy. He abruptly threw back the curtain of the carriage window, and the evening breeze rushed in, carrying the unique scent of late spring in Chang'an, a mixture of earthy, floral, and distant cooking smoke, which brushed against his face.

"What...is her name?" His voice trembled slightly in the wind.

Duan Qiniang thought carefully, "It seems... her given name is Yuhuan? Yes, Yang Yuhuan. That merchant even joked that this girl would definitely be extraordinary in the future, but it's just unknown who she will end up with." As she spoke, she suddenly realized something and looked at Li Bai's pale profile, "Li Lang, you..."

"Yu Huan... Yang Yu Huan..." Li Bai murmured the name repeatedly, each syllable like a red-hot branding iron, searing his soul.

Yang Xiaohuan. Yang Yuhuan.

Past and present lives, two names, two times and spaces, yet at this moment they overlap into the same breathtaking outline. Chengdu, unparalleled beauty, imperial selection... all the clues, all the fragments, point to that name that left a profound and poignant mark on the long river of history—Yang Guifei.

The carriage stopped in front of the "Tingxue Xiaozhu" in Pingkangfang. Duan Qiniang got out of the carriage first and turned around to help Li Bai, but saw that he was still sitting stiffly in the carriage, staring blankly at the darkening night outside the window, as if his soul was no longer in his body.

"Li Lang?" she called softly.

Li Bai snapped out of his daze, took a deep breath, and got out of the carriage carrying the bundle of silk and coins. His steps were unsteady, and he even stumbled when he stepped onto the bluestone steps. Duan Qiniang quickly steadied him, and when she touched him, she found that his arm muscles were taut as iron, but his body temperature was frighteningly low.

"I'm fine." He forced a smile, but it looked worse than a grimace. "I'm just... a little tired."

***

Inside the second-floor boudoir of Tingxue Xiaozhu, candles were already lit. Three tallow candles burned quietly on copper candlesticks, their orange glow filling the room and casting flickering shadows on the walls. The air was filled with the styrax incense often used by Duan Qiniang, warm and sweet, yet unable to dispel the chill in Li Bai's heart.

He sat on a couch by the window, the bundle of silk and coins casually placed at his feet. Duan Qiniang poured him a cup of hot tea, then brought over a warmed wine pot and placed a celadon wine cup in front of him.

"Li Lang, have some hot tea to warm yourself up." She pushed the teacup towards him, then sat down opposite him, looking at him with concern. "Just now...did you think of some old friend?"

Li Bai picked up the teacup, the scalding porcelain burning his fingertips, but he was completely unaware. The bitterness of the tea spread on his tongue, carrying the spiciness of ginger and the saltiness of salt. The complex and stimulating taste cleared his muddled mind somewhat.

"An old friend..." he repeated softly, his gaze fixed on the flickering candlelight, "Perhaps."

How should he explain? Should he tell Duan Qiniang that he comes from over a thousand years in the future, has a wife named Yang Xiaohuan, and that Yang Yuhuan, who is about to be selected for the palace, is likely Yang Xiaohuan's past life? Should he tell her that he knows this young girl will become a concubine in the future, will perish at Mawei Slope, and will become one of the symbols of the decline of the Tang Dynasty?

Absurd. Even he himself found it absurd.

But the excruciating pain deep in his heart and the urge to burst through his chest were so real. He had to confirm it. He had to see Yang Yuhuan with his own eyes. He had to…do something.

"Seventh Sister," he put down his teacup, the porcelain clinking against the wooden table, "you just said that the merchant mentioned something else? About... the selection?"

Duan Qiniang recalled carefully: "The merchant said that the officials in Shu had already submitted the name of the Yang woman as one of the 'good girls' recommended by the local government to participate in this year's palace selection. It is said that this is because when the Emperor toured Shu last year, although he did not see her in person, he had already heard rumors of her beauty and talent, so the local officials were particularly interested." She paused, lowering her voice slightly, "Li Lang, the palace selection is a common practice. Every year, various regions recommend eligible women to the capital for selection, but only one or two out of ten can ultimately remain in the palace. Most are either sent back or given to members of the imperial family or meritorious officials as concubines. Although this Yang woman is renowned for her beauty, whether she will ultimately be selected, and what her fate will be afterward, is still unknown."

Li Bai's fingers unconsciously tightened, his nails digging into his palms, causing a slight stinging pain.

It remains to be seen.

No, he knows.

He knew Yang Yuhuan would be chosen to enter the palace, become the Princess of Shou, and then be taken by Emperor Xuanzong of Tang, becoming a Noble Consort and enjoying the emperor's utmost favor. He knew the An Lushan Rebellion would break out, and the soil of Mawei Slope would be stained with her blood. He knew all of this as certainly as he knew the sunrise and sunset.

This "knowing" has become the cruelest torture at this moment.

"How old is she this year?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"She's fifteen, the age of coming-of-age ceremony," Duan Qiniang replied, a hint of doubt flashing in her eyes. "Li Lang, why are you so concerned about this girl? Could it be...?"

“I have an old friend,” Li Bai interrupted her, fabricating a half-true, half-false reason, “a long-lost relative, surnamed Yang, also from Sichuan. Hearing the name ‘Yang Yuhuan,’ and hearing that she was from Chengdu in Sichuan, and that she was about the same age… I couldn’t help but think about it.” He raised his eyes to Duan Qiniang, “Qiniang, could you help me find out more? More detailed information, such as exactly where she lives in Chengdu, her family situation, how far the selection process has progressed… any information will do.”

Duan Qiniang gazed at him, the candlelight flickering in her eyes. She could sense that Li Bai wasn't telling the truth, at least not the whole story. That deep-seated anxiety and urgency wasn't just about finding lost relatives. But she didn't press him, only nodding gently: "Alright. I'll have someone inquire tomorrow. There are many merchants and officials traveling between Chang'an and Shu; they should be able to find some information."

"Thank you," Li Bai said softly, picking up his wine cup and drinking the warm wine in one gulp. The wine slid down his throat, bringing a burning sensation, but it could not warm his cold heart.

***

In the following days, Li Bai was like a trapped beast.

On the surface, he continued to live in Tingxue Xiaozhu, spending his days reading and practicing calligraphy. Occasionally, at Duan Qiniang's invitation, he would gather with other literati in the neighborhood to discuss poetry and literature. Imperial Censor Cui had also sent him an invitation to his residence for tea, but he politely declined, only sending back a five-character poem he had composed on the spot as a token of his gratitude.

His poetic talent had already spread throughout the small literary circles of Chang'an after that poetry gathering. People frequently came to visit him or invite him to travel together. Li Bai mostly declined, maintaining contact only with one or two literary figures who seemed straightforward and well-informed.

What he was really doing was like a taut net, frantically capturing any information related to "Shu", "Chengdu", "Yang Yuhuan", and "palace selection".

Duan Qiniang used her connections. Among the guests she befriended were silk merchants traveling between Shu and Chang'an, low-ranking officials working in the Ministry of Personnel, and even one or two eunuchs who had some connection with the palace's procurement. She skillfully inquired and probed indirectly, piecing together fragmented information.

Li Bai himself inquired through newly acquainted literati. One of them, a young scholar surnamed Zheng, had an uncle who was an official in Sichuan and happened to know some inside information.

The news gradually gathered, like streams converging into rivers, eventually crashing into a raging storm in Li Bai's heart.

Yang Yuhuan, whose father Yang Xuanzhen died early, was raised in the home of her uncle Yang Xuangui. Yang Xuangui, who had served as the Registrar of Shu Prefecture, was of moderate means and doted on his niece, hiring tutors to teach her poetry, literature, and music. This girl was indeed exceptionally beautiful and intelligent, especially skilled in music and dance; a single pipa performance could evoke the songs of a hundred birds. Officials in Shu considered her a rare treasure. Although the emperor did not see her during his tour of Shu last year, they intended to report her as a representative of "auspiciousness" and "beauty." This spring, her name was officially included in the list of "good daughters" recommended by Shu Prefecture and submitted to the Ministry of Personnel and the Inner Palace Department responsible for selection. According to custom, the selection process, from local reporting to initial screening, secondary selection, and finally an audience with the emperor, takes several months. However, if someone is exceptionally outstanding, or if someone receives special favors from higher authorities, the process may be expedited.

The most alarming news for Li Bai was that there were rumors that a favored concubine in the palace (whom he later learned was Consort Wu Hui) was quite interested in this "Yang girl" from Shu and had already spoken to the Inner Palace Attendants Bureau. This meant that Yang Yuhuan's selection was almost a done deal; the only difference was the timing and her rank after entering the palace.

With each additional sentence he heard, Li Bai's heart sank a little deeper.

He could almost see the wheels of history rumbling along their predetermined tracks, crushing the fifteen-year-old girl and the obsession he could not let go of even after a thousand years.

Late at night, he stood alone by the window on the second floor of Tingxue Xiaozhu. The myriad lights of Chang'an flickered in the night, and the silhouette of the imperial city in the distance appeared majestic and imposing under the moonlight. The evening breeze carried the long, heavy tolling of the temple bells in the distance, each sound striking his heart.

He stroked his young, strong arm; the skin was smooth, the muscles well-proportioned, brimming with the vitality expected of someone his age. This body was far stronger than the bespectacled, somewhat frail geological engineer of his previous life. He possessed the talent of a "Poet Immortal," the devoted assistance of Duan Qiniang, the appreciation of Imperial Censor Cui, and the newly acquired financial support.

But all of this seemed so pale and powerless in the face of the impending imperial summons.

A commoner, without official rank, wealth, or power, what gives him the right to defy the will of the entire empire? What gives him the right to change the fate of a woman destined to become a concubine? With a few poems? With a sword yet to be found?

A feeling of powerlessness washed over him like an icy tide, rising from his feet and engulfing his chest, suffocating him.

But he couldn't give up.

The sorrow and helplessness in Yang Xiaohuan's eyes as the dagger plunged into his chest were branded onto his soul. If Yang Yuhuan truly was her past life, and if history truly followed that trajectory, then were certain things deep within Yang Xiaohuan's soul forever trapped in the soil of Mawei Slope?

He had to go. He had to see her with his own eyes. Even just a glimpse from afar, to confirm if her face truly resembled Yang Xiaohuan's. Even if… he couldn't do anything.

At least he tried.

***

Five days later, at dusk.

Duan Qiniang returned from outside, carrying a faint scent of dust and the lingering hustle and bustle of the marketplace. She went straight upstairs and pushed open Li Bai's door.

Li Bai sat at his desk, a simple map of the Shu Road spread out before him—a rough sketch he had drawn from memory and information gathered a few days earlier. The candlelight cast his long shadow on the wall.

"Li Lang," Duan Qiniang's voice was somewhat tired, but her eyes were bright, "I've found out. Yang Yuhuan is currently living at Yang Xuangui's villa on the banks of Huanhua Creek in the western suburbs of Chengdu. The list of candidates has passed the initial screening. The official ship sent by Shu Prefecture to escort the selected women to the capital will depart from Chengdu around the beginning of next month, travel down the Yangtze River to Jingzhou, and then transfer to a land route northward. At the latest... they will arrive in Chang'an in June."

June.

It's the end of April now.

Li Bai pressed his finger heavily on the location of "Chengdu" on the map, causing the ink to spread into a small blot.

"Seventh Sister," he raised his head, his gaze so firm that it made Duan Seventh Sister's heart tremble, "I want to go to Shu."

Duan Qiniang was stunned: "Now? Li Lang, why are you in such a hurry? Even if she is an old friend, it's not too late to see her after she enters Chang'an. The road to Shu is treacherous and the journey is long, and you are all alone..."

"I can't wait any longer." Li Bai stood up, walked to the window, and gazed at the western sky sinking into twilight. "I must see her before she leaves Shu. Some things... some things must be said and done at that time." He turned to look at Duan Qiniang, his eyes filled with a light she had never seen before—a light mixed with pain, determination, and a hint of madness. "Qiniang, thank you for your care these past few days. Li Bai will remember it. I will keep half of the silk and money given to me by Imperial Censor Cui for my travel expenses; please accept the other half as a token of my appreciation."

Duan Qiniang's eyes instantly reddened. She quickly walked to Li Bai, looked up at him, and said, "Li Lang, you... when will you return? The road to Shu is difficult, more difficult than ascending to heaven! What if you encounter danger alone..."

"I will return." Li Bai's voice was deep and resolute. "No matter what, I will return to Chang'an. Seventh Sister, you are the first person in this era to truly care for me. I will never forget this kindness."

He reached out and gently grasped Duan Qiniang's slightly cool hand. Her fingers were slender and soft, but they were trembling slightly at that moment.

"But..." Duan Qiniang's tears finally fell, "But you won't even tell me why you insist on going now... Li Lang, what are you hiding in your heart? Is that Yang Yuhuan really just an old friend of yours?"

Li Bai remained silent for a moment, then released his grip. He couldn't answer.

"Seventh Sister," he finally said, "some things are better left unsaid. Just remember, I, Li Bai, am by no means an ungrateful person. I am going to Shu for two reasons: first, to visit an old friend, and second, to... seek out famous mountains and rivers, and to find inspiration for my poems. You know I am a poet. The scenery of Shu is magnificent, and perhaps it will allow me to write even better poems."

This reason was barely plausible. Duan Qiniang knew that poets often had these sudden, almost obsessive impulses. Looking at the unwavering determination in Li Bai's eyes, she knew she couldn't keep him.

She wiped away her tears, took a deep breath, and tried to keep her voice steady: "Alright. Since my mind is made up, I... will not stop you. You don't need to keep half of your travel expenses; take them all. The road to Shu is difficult, and there will be many places where you need money. I still have some savings here; take some more..."

"No." Li Bai shook his head firmly. "You have already helped me too much. This money and silk are enough for me to travel back and forth to Shu. Seventh Sister, if you refuse again, you will be looking down on me, Li Bai."

Knowing his temper, Duan Qiniang had no choice but to give up. She turned around and took out a blue cloth bundle from the cabinet. Inside were several sets of clothes, a pair of thick-soled hemp shoes, a sun hat, and a small packet of commonly used medicines and dry food that she had prepared for Li Bai.

"Take these with you." She stuffed the bundle into Li Bai's arms, her voice choked with emotion. "Be careful on the road. When you reach Chengdu, remember to send a message back. If... if you finish your business, return to Chang'an as soon as possible. I... will wait for you here."

Li Bai took the bundle; it was heavy, not only because of the items inside, but also because of the sentiment behind it. He nodded solemnly, "Okay. I promise you."

***

The next morning, before dawn.

Li Bai changed into a short, coarse, dark blue cloth outfit suitable for walking, he wore hemp shoes, a bamboo hat, a blue cloth bundle on his back, and a satchel containing the money given to him by Imperial Censor Cui. Of the two bolts of silk, he left one for Duan Qiniang, and exchanged the other for more portable silver coins at the West Market the day before.

Duan Qiniang escorted him to the entrance of Pingkang Ward. A morning mist hung in the air, shrouding the ward walls and the locust trees lining the street in a hazy, greyish-white hue. The air was filled with the damp scent of earth and the faint sound of washing clothes drifting from afar.

"Let's go this way." Duan Qiniang stopped. She had deliberately worn a simple dress today, without any makeup, and her eyes were still slightly swollen. "If I see you off any further, I'm afraid I won't be able to bear to let you leave."

Li Bai looked at her, the woman who had given him warmth and help during his most confused and helpless time. He suddenly stepped forward and gently embraced her. It was very light, very quick, a fleeting touch.

"Take care," he said, only two words.

Duan Qiniang's tears welled up again. She nodded vigorously, unable to speak.

Li Bai turned and strode into the morning mist. His figure quickly became blurred and eventually disappeared into the depths of the crisscrossing streets and alleys of Chang'an.

Duan Qiniang stood there until he could no longer be seen, until the morning mist gradually dissipated and the golden rays of the rising sun pierced through the clouds, spilling onto the bluestone pavement of Pingkang Lane. She raised her hand and gently pressed it against her chest, where there was an emptiness, as if a piece of her heart had been taken away.

***

Li Bai did not leave the city immediately.

He found an inconspicuous little inn near the West Market and asked for the cheapest room. The inn room was cramped and dark, with only one small window, outside of which was the back wall of the tavern next door. The air was filled with the mixed smells of old wood, dust, and cheap liquor.

He placed his bundle on the simple wooden bed and took off his straw hat. Sunlight slanted in through the small window, casting a patch of light on the dusty ground, where dust particles danced in the light.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, untied his bundle, and checked his belongings again. Clothes, shoes, hats, dry food, medicine, money... everything was in order.

Then he reached out and stroked his young, strong arm. The muscles beneath his skin were firm, the veins slightly bulging, brimming with power. This body was healthy, strong, and in the prime of its life.

But he felt a deep, almost overwhelming sense of powerlessness.

Even if you get to Chengdu and meet Yang Yuhuan, what then?

He walked over to her and said: "I am Li Bai. I have been here for over a thousand years. I know that you will become a concubine and die a terrible death. Come with me."

Or should we watch from afar, confirming whether that face truly resembles Yang Xiaohuan, before turning away and letting history proceed along its predetermined path?

Or... something even crazier? Using one's prophetic knowledge of history, what can one do? What could one do? Assassinate Yang Xuangui? Disrupt the imperial selection process? Rebel against imperial power?

What does he have? A few poems? A little money? A fairly strong body?

Before the vast imperial machine, before the supreme imperial power, and before the rolling tide of history, he was as insignificant as a speck of dust.

The hustle and bustle of the city outside the window—the cries of vendors, the sounds of carriages and horses, and the voices of people—mingled into a buzzing background noise. This vibrant, everyday life, however, made him feel incredibly lonely at that moment.

He clenched his fist, his nails digging into his palm again. A slight pain reminded him of his real existence.

I am powerless, but I have no choice but to go.

Feeling lost, but unable to stop.

Because that was Yang Xiaohuan. It was a name etched into his soul, an obsession that transcended life and death and time and space.

He retied the bundle and placed it on the bedside table. Then he lay down fully clothed and closed his eyes.

Tomorrow, at daybreak, he will leave Chang'an, cross the Qinling Mountains, travel along the Shu Road, and head to Chengdu.

Go see that dream, which you may never be able to reach.