Beneath the eastern cliffs of the Jade Moon Sect, past the spiraling Bamboo Steps and beyond the sealed Moon-Tide Gate, lay a place no male disciple dared to enter.
They called it the Whispering Orchid Garden.
Not because it was dangerous.
But because it remembered you.
Yin Qi bloomed here so densely that even a breath could stir forgotten emotions, amplify desire, awaken regret.
Many entered on accident.
None left unchanged.
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A Call He Couldn't Ignore
Long Tian had no reason to come here.
And yet, on the third night after his clash with Leng Xiyue, his body moved of its own accord—guided by an unseen pulse from the Sutra.
His Lust Core burned softly beneath his skin, not in need… but in direction.
"There's something waiting," She'yan whispered in his mind.
"Not a lover. Not yet. But a... resonance the Sutra remembers."
He crossed the warding talismans.
The garden opened without protest.
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The World Inside
It was not a garden of flowers.
It was a realm of dreams.
Moon orchids hung from silver branches, dripping with glowing dew.
Crystalline pools reflected not his face—but memories he'd long buried.
The air shimmered with the perfume of every woman who had ever looked at him with something almost like longing.
And somewhere in the center—beneath a tree that wept silver leaves—
She stood.
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The Woman in Silk
She wore no robe, only layers of translucent mist that clung to her body like breath clings to glass.
Her eyes were blindfolded.
Her hair, black as deep water, reached the backs of her thighs, her body is bewitching and soul stealing,it can't be describe by mortal standard.
She did not react when he stepped closer.
"You've come," she said, as though she'd waited years.
"The Sutra burns. I felt it."
"Do you know who I am?"
Long Tian's throat tightened. "No."
She tilted her head.
Her lips curled—not in seduction, but something older. Recognition.
"Then let me remember you… instead."
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A Mirror Without Touch
She stepped toward him. Slowly. Silently with every step her hip swaying .
And with every step, Long Tian's body tensed.
The air around her bent.
The petals beneath her feet dissolved into glowing ash.
Even the pool's reflection changed—showing not his face, but her memory of him.
She stopped one breath away.
"I am no woman," she said softly. "Not yet. Not fully."
"I am the echo of a desire never fulfilled."
"Born in this garden… the moment a man first needed without knowing what he needed."
He wanted to speak.
But her voice pressed against his lips like a finger.
"No words. Only feeling."
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The Sutra Reacts
His core pulsed.
The Sutra spun within him like a galaxy unfolding—opening to her, reaching out not for pleasure, but recognition.
The woman placed her hand above his heart—not touching, just hovering.
A lotus sigil formed there, mirroring hers.
Twin petals. Yin and Yang. Mirror and flame.
Their Qi met—softly, soundlessly—like wind curling over a candle without blowing it out.
"You are not ready to take me," she whispered.
"But soon… one will offer herself fully."
"When she does, remember me."
He blinked. "Why?"
She smiled, and for the first time, he saw a tear slip beneath her blindfold.
"Because I am what she becomes."
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Departure
When he stepped back, the garden shimmered and blurred.
The woman dissolved into petals.
The tree vanished.
The air cooled.
He stood at the gate again—heart racing, lips trembling, body untouched… but etched.
"That wasn't lust," he whispered.
"That was... prophecy."
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Afterword: She'yan's Voice
"Now you've met the garden's ghost," She'yan said in his mind, half-pleased, half-wary.
"A piece of the Sutra's forgotten history. She cannot be claimed… only remembered."
"But you carry her now."
"And she will bloom… when the right one touches you."
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