Contest Title: (Xiao Youling)
Type: Fan Creation
Original Work: (Xiao Youling)
Original Author:
“Hah… hah…”
“Get away! All of you, get away!”
Staggering through the crowd, she sees the figure lying in a pool of blood.
“No…”
“What… have you done to her!”
Hands trembling, trying to piece together what was broken—
fingers meet the glass phial within the soft fur—still intact.
This morning, its thin walls still held prismatic light.
Now they run with blood, staining the world red.
“Demoness!”
Faces like black voids close in around her.
“Now that the Sinful Rabbit isn’t here to protect you, let’s see where you can run today!”
“Solas! Do it—!”
Blade drawing near, she lowers her eyes.
If there be another life, may we both be without heart…
Would it not have come to such an end…
Whooo—
Wind rises in a sudden gust.
Red plum blossoms bloom at once—across tree trunks, grass, stone pedestals.
“None but demons are without heart.
To summon her back—
bind to stone,
soul to weather a hundred years.
Are you still steadfast?”
“I do not regret.”
Wait for wind to rise,
wait for light to fall,
wait for you to wake again.
That night, the moon was full, sharp as a blade.
No one remembered its former form.
Distant mountains, silent.
Wind over treetops.
…
Before the eyes, all is white.
Sitting up, trees stand frozen, only branch-tips breaking through.
Yet beneath the body—
snow without trace.
Am I… dead?
Head lifted toward the moon, warmth seeps from behind.
After countless attempts, the only thing within reach, yet impossible to leave.
Once stepping too far, something seems to tug,
making even a single step impossible.
…Very well.
Moon bright.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Stone warm.
This night, no regret.
“Why…”
“Because you should die.”
…Who is speaking?
The thought has just formed.
A strange vision surfaces.
Applause and tea-smoke intertwine.
Storyteller speaking with measured ease inside the inn.
Unnoticed, it has already reached its end.
With a sweep of the sleeve and a smile:
“If you wish to know what follows in , listen to the next telling.”
Awareness returns. Eyes open.
Half-embedded in stone.
Only after a brief panic does understanding come.
It is by borrowing stone as vessel that another’s form and thoughts are glimpsed.
Heh.
A little deeper, then.
See what plays out in the world.
Why can only you be touched?
And why do you give off warmth?
How many days since waking, unknown.
Little Ghost still gazes at the stone, murmuring those unanswered questions.
Thoughts not yet settled, the sea of consciousness jolts, as if falling into a bottomless void.
“It has been a long time.”
“Do you think me blind of eye and heart?”
“When blossoms bloomed that year, I smiled—more foolish than anyone.”
“…”
“Ngh…”
What… is this…
It hurts—stop!
—The chaotic tide subsides; only then, insect-song.
“Hah…”
…The rest, another time.
Sun not yet set, yet the moon already appears.
Tonight… probably full.
Had meant to look more closely, only to find the stone growing hotter.
…It’s not going to explode… is it?
In that panic, the stone suddenly shines—blinding.
Not good!
Breaking into a run, stopping only after distance is put between.
“Hah…”
“That was close… huh? I can speak?”
Looking down, ten fingers distinct, no longer pudgy.
Looks like human form has returned; solid things can be touched again.
“Great! Finally I can go eat all that good food!”
…
Figure gradually solidifies, yet shock has not yet settled.
Once vigilance loosens, time slips away.
When awareness returns, the self has already begun to fade.
It was… only three days…
Spring blossoms, summer cicadas, autumn leaves, winter snow.
Year after year.
Dynasties rise and fall, yet this place never moves with them—
like the memory of the first day of each month.
She always forgets that day.
Rust-like stains sometimes surface upon the stone.
They are never examined closely.
Brief freedom beneath the full moon no longer feels precious—
The fuller the moon,
the deeper the solitude.
“Shrew!”
The sudden roar shatters the rare stillness.
Hm?
I didn’t use possession.
Brows drawn tight, the man stands in the courtyard corridor.
He smashes the glass pendant at his waist.
Shards scatter, stained by the setting sun.
Heart pounds heavy, yet the body grows cold—whose reaction is this?
No… I don’t want to see anymore…
Splintered fire slips through the seams of grey brick.
Beads of blood at the fingertips devour the fading sky.
She hears the accusation pierce her mind:
“—What have you done!”
Silent brilliance flares.
Mountain shadows bow as one.
“Affection breeds wounds; remembrance forges hatred.
You once said you wanted no part of it—what of now?”
“Are you still steadfast?”
Fingers brush lightly over the stone, gaze lifting toward the night sky.
At the corner of the lips, slowly forms the curve the other loved most.
Then, stepping into the moonlight.
Form fades like firefly light.
“—I do not regret.”
Evening wind passes through the mountain forest.
Only a faint glimmer remains upon the stone.
Legend says this mountain has shown light three times:
first as blood,
second as dream,
third as the night’s lingering thought.
Thus it was named—
the Land Without Heart.
〔Ending Theme〕
“White Moonlight” — Jeff Chang
?? — Production Credits
Produced by:
Creative Director: The Boss (insisted on playing the ending theme)
Screenwriter: The Ill-Fated Screenwriter (copied the lines twice, crying on the spot)
Director: The One Who Dares Not Watch the Final Cut
Production Design: The Temperamental Art Lead (give me back my life)
Talent Management: The Manager
Starring
Little Ghost: Special Appearance by the Original
Stone: Special Appearance by the Moon Mirror Itself
Sinful Rabbit: Yun Cangyue
Wronged Woman: Liu Xiyu
Guest Appearances
Executioner:
Storyteller: Dong Productions Marketing Intern
The Ignorant Crowd: Ensemble
Special Thanks
“White Moonlight” — thank you for tearing open the audience’s hearts.