That night the moon hung high, and the river glittered. Feng Xinzi lay on the grass, hands under his head, legs crossed, and a blade of grass in his mouth, half dozing.

　　Ruoshui lay on her side nearby, propping her head with her hand and watching him.

　　“What, mesmerized by me?” Feng Xinzi didn’t even lift an eyelid.

　　“Pfft.” Ruoshui rolled over and lay on her back, knees curled, watching the sliver of moon. “Thanks for today,” she said.

　　“Don’t mention it. But—who taught you that tune? You played it beautifully.”

　　Who taught her? The face of Su Mu popped into her head; she shook it away and looked at Feng Xinzi, whose face was suddenly very close and expectant. They stared at each other; it was hard to say who was staring at whom.

　　“I don’t remember who taught me,” she said finally. “I only vaguely recall someone playing that song in a dream. It felt real, so when I saw Qin Yin playing I tried to copy it.”

　　“So… anything come back?” Feng Xinzi asked, not sounding too pleased. He wanted to help Ruoshui find her family, but he couldn’t shake a selfish fear: if she remembered her past, she might leave, and the thought made him uneasy.

　　Ruoshui thought of that face and laughed at herself. “I thought it was the man who rescued me at the riverbank — but it can’t be. If the dream-teacher were him, he wouldn’t have ignored me for so long, and he’d never have left without a word.”

　　Feng Xinzi frowned. “You’re still hung up on him? He abandoned you, and you keep clinging to him.”

　　“It’s not like I don’t know that,” she snapped. “You don’t have to remind me.”

　　“Better to live in reality,” he muttered.

　　Ruoshui said nothing and stared up at the stars. Feng Xinzi found her profile unexpectedly pretty.

　　After a moment she smirked, “You looked so handsome fighting that drunk today.”

　　“I know I did,” he teased. “But where’s the beauty then? I didn’t see one.”

　　They bantered, and Feng Xinzi tried not to let his mood spoil. He wanted to help her find family, but he also wanted to keep her near.

　　Ruoshui described the strange scene at the brothel — someone groped her, a stranger intervened to rescue her, and a unique tune filled the air. The memory — half-formed — made Feng Xinzi’s face grow stormy, as if it bothered him that she’d once moved through such places with ease.

　　“Anyway, I checked today. When you were lost, no one reported a missing daughter,” Feng Xinzi said suddenly.

　　“Oh,” Ruoshui replied flatly.

　　“But don’t be sad. I’ll find your family. If we can’t, I’ll take care of you,” he promised, earnest.

　　Ruoshui smiled and said she trusted him. In truth, she’d already braced herself — she wasn’t crushed, just resigned. Good news would be a bonus; bad news was something she could accept.

　　Feng Xinzi told her about the “dream fairy” rumor he’d heard. Ruoshui listened, fascinated, and asked if the fairy might be some saintly benefactor. Feng Xinzi only shrugged; he still didn’t believe, but he didn’t argue either. People cling to comforting stories.

　　“Even if the fairy saved everyone, how did you end up here? If nobody was lost and no one’s daughters disappeared, why did you appear on the riverbank? You didn’t just fall from the sky. You’re not a fairy, right? Did you crawl out of a rock?” Feng Xinzi joked, then immediately regretted saying it.

　　Ruoshui fixed him with a mock-serious stare. He wished he could smack his own mouth. To salvage it, she leaned in, made a spooky face, and whispered, “Actually, I crawled out from beneath the earth — I’m a ghost!” She baring her teeth and made a show of being a demon.

　　Feng Xinzi stared, stunned, then both of them burst into laughter. She was much more resilient than he’d feared.

　　They stayed in Yunfu for a few days but found nothing. Feng Xinzi decided they should move on. Ruoshui agreed, packed, and prepared to leave.