[Dear Mr. M,
Thank you for appearing and taking me away from that strange castle.
I will never forget that night.
The wilderness was overgrown with wild roses, and crickets sang softly in the grass.
The stars kissed the earth, and fireflies fell like shooting stars.
Dew-laden thorns clung to the hem of my dress, and bay laurel petals drifted into my hair.
I couldn’t stop crying.
Glass beads, roses, crickets. You fulfilled all my requests.
You must be curious why I love these things. But that is a secret.]
Lin Jing snapped out of his daze after a brief moment of mental blankness. He crouched down, meeting the girl’s gaze amidst the sea of flowers.
His voice was hoarse as he asked, “You’re not the witch, are you?”
The girl had been holding onto the cricket, but the moment she did, her emotions completely collapsed.
Her golden-white hair draped over her trembling body, her throat ruined, her face streaked with tears—she was sobbing too hard to speak.
Seeing this, Lin Jing finally understood.
This wasn’t the witch.
This was the princess…the one imprisoned at the top of the tower by the witch.
The rat climbed back onto his shoulder, equally stunned. “Holy sh*t, so that formation didn’t break the witch’s illusion—it was a time-reversal spell. We’ve traveled back years into the past, to when the princess was still locked away in the forest?”
Lin Jing didn’t reply, but he had already come to the same conclusion.
He silently watched the girl in front of him.
Fireflies adorned her hair like tiny stars. The princess finally finished crying and slowly opened her hands, letting the cricket hop back into the grass, where it chirped softly in the open field.
Tear stains lingered on her face as she looked up at Lin Jing.
The scent of bay laurel drifted through the air. Her ice-blue eyes—like the sky reflected on a snowy mountain—were both sorrowful and breathtakingly beautiful.
It seemed as if her frailty and helplessness had been completely purged through her tears. She stood up and, with a broken voice, spoke calmly, “I’m not the witch. But you took me out of there, so I will fulfill my end of the bargain.”
Years of isolation in the tower had instilled a deep loneliness in her very soul.
Lin Jing felt a wave of complicated emotions. “Then where is the witch?”
The princess smiled—at first, it seemed like she wanted to mock something, but after a moment, she lost interest, her lips lowering into a neutral line. She replied flatly, “I don’t know. The legend of Eberon says the witch lives in the Dark Forest. But I’ve been here for so long and never seen her. Maybe… the witch never existed.”
Lin Jing and the rat exchanged another dumbfounded look.
The princess spoke as if she were telling someone else’s story: “My mother died when I was born. Soon after, endless snowfall blanketed Eberon, and countless people froze or starved to death. The nobles cursed me as a harbinger of misfortune, claiming I was a child born from the queen’s wish granted by the witch, and they demanded my execution. To protect me, my father sent me here and lied to the world, saying the witch had taken me.”
“I cried and struggled, trying to escape. Afraid I would be discovered, my father poisoned my voice mute and planted thorns at the door.”
She lowered her head. Her ankles were covered in fresh wounds from her recent journey, and beneath them lay scars accumulated over the years.
Lin Jing’s voice was dry and hoarse: “It’s been so many years. Has your father never come for you?”
The princess: “No.”
She plucked the fallen bay laurel flower from her hair and said, “I think he hates me too. He just couldn’t bring himself to kill me.”
Lin Jing had never seen the King of Eberon—not even at the royal ball. He only knew of him from the princess’s letters, which described a man deeply in love with his wife.
He had once called his daughter the Heart of the Rose, yet he had abandoned her in the depths of this forest, leaving her to fend for herself.
The three letters the princess had written were filled with sorrow and innocence. But now, standing before him was a girl who had grown cold and detached.
For the first time, Lin Jing felt a pang of sadness.
He bent slightly and asked, “So where do you want to go now?”
The princess stared blankly at the ground. After a long silence, she finally said: “Mirror, take me back to the palace.”
Lin Jing froze completely. In utter disbelief, he asked, “Back to the palace?”
The princess’s thick eyelashes cast a shadow as she softly said, “Yes, maybe your arrival is my mother calling me back.”
“I may not be a witch, but I am a divinely favored one. I can understand the language of sorcerers. There are even more powerful magical tomes in the palace’s basement—perhaps one of them holds the answer you seek.”
Divinely favored one.
Lin Jing heard those words again. On impulse, he asked, “Alright, but before we set off, can you tell me your name?”
The princess murmured, “My name?” Her fingertips trembled slightly, and in a voice so soft it was almost inaudible, she said, “I am… Rossi.”
Rossi.
Lin Jing thought to himself—just as he suspected.
Leading the princess out of the Black Forest was easy. According to the parchment instructions, they just had to leave the same way they came in.
Despite the changes in time, the landscape of the forest had remained largely the same.
The swamp was still shrouded in black mist, lurking toads hidden within. Strange cries echoed through the woods from time to time.
As Lin Jing scanned his surroundings, a question nagged at him: Was there really a witch in this forest? Or was everything simply a fabrication of the people of Ebilon?
At this moment in time, the forest was not yet surrounded by thorny hedges, allowing for free passage.
By the time they emerged, dawn had broken.
Spring brought forth new life, and under the sunlight, the princess’s skin appeared even paler, as fragile as thin paper.
She was still unaccustomed to the outside world, clutching tightly at the collar of her cloak.
Lin Jing, however, was at a loss as soon as they exited the forest. He had no idea which direction to take, but fortunately, a cart carrying fruit into the city happened to pass by.
After some haggling with the farmer, he struck a deal with a single gold coin, pulling the princess onto the cart to sit among the fruit.
The farmer asked, “Where are you headed?”
Lin Jing replied, “Just drop us off at the city square, please. Thank you.”
The farmer chuckled, “The square? It’s quite lively there now.”
Lin Jing smoothed out his skirt. “Oh?”
The farmer continued, “A few years ago, heavy snow destroyed most of the statues. The king is having them rebuilt now.”
The farmer wasn’t wrong. By the time they reached the square, it was bustling with people, a sea of activity.
As Lin Jing led the young princess off the cart, he lifted his head and immediately saw the statue standing in the center.
The sky was a brilliant blue, white doves soaring above. The statue was still in its damaged state, more ruinous than when he had seen it later in life. The left arm, along with the shoulder, was entirely missing. Its eyes were now two hollow cavities, but the faint outlines of a woman could still be made out—her curled hair cascading down, her long gown exuding grace.
Nearby, a group of beggars sat along the streets, engaged in a lively discussion.
“Who is this statue supposed to be? Why is the king so determined to restore it?”
“I heard it’s the queen.”
“No. There’s an eerie rumor among the nobility that this statue was built in gratitude to the witch who granted the queen a child.”
“You mean to say—this statue is of the wicked witch from the Black Forest?!”
“Exactly, the one who supposedly caused the queen’s death and left the little princess’s fate uncertain.”
“That’s nonsense. If it were really the witch, the king would have smashed it long ago.”
“I don’t believe it either.”
“Actually… what I’m more curious about is how the statue’s eyes disappeared.”
“New here, are you? The king himself dug them out and set them into his crown as decorations.”
“Bah! That’s just a lie the king fed you. I saw it with my own eyes—a dove swooped in and carried the loose eye away.”
“You again! Don’t listen to him, he’s crazy, always rambling nonsense.”
“You’re the crazy one! I saw it with my own eyes!”
The beggars soon fell into an argument, shoving and wrestling with each other.
Behind the square stood a towering Gothic cathedral, solemn and grand, its stained-glass windows reflecting holy light.
Lin Jing bent down slightly and asked the princess, “Should we head straight to the palace?”
The young princess remained still, her gaze fixed on the statue standing beneath the blue sky. The breeze lifted her golden hair, her ice-blue eyes devoid of emotion. After a long moment, she lowered her head and tugged her hood back down. “Let’s go directly.”
Upon arriving at the palace gates, the moment the princess removed her hood, the guards nearly fainted from shock.
It took the support of their comrades for them to regain composure, stammering as they rushed to notify the king.
Lin Jing and the rat, on the other hand, were treated as esteemed guests and led by the maids to a room to rest.
Having gone without sleep for an entire day, Lin Jing was exhausted. The moment his head touched the pillow, he was out.
Eventually, it was the rat’s tiny paws that shook him awake.
“Wake up, time to get moving.”
Lin Jing groggily sat up. A maid stood before him, respectfully asking, “You’re awake? Would you like something to eat first?”
Not particularly hungry, Lin Jing simply gave her a curious look and shook his head.
The maid took a deep breath, then smiled and said, “Then, if you please, follow me to the garden. The princess wishes to see you.”
The princess?
As Lin Jing put on his shoes, he noticed that his old pair was gone—replaced by an expensive pair of crystal slippers.
“…” Wow. Now that’s some top-tier service.
Following the maid to the garden, he soon spotted Rossi reading a book. She had removed her black cloak, and after washing away the grime from her hair, she now sat amidst the rose garden, looking like an angel.
Her golden-white hair cascaded down to her waist, moonlight lending it a silvery glow. Clad in an elegant sky-blue gown, her delicate features were breathtakingly beautiful. As she turned the pages of her book, there was an indescribable sense of grace about her.
“Your Highness, your guest has arrived.”
The princess closed her book and lifted her gaze.
Then, she made a gesture to the maid. The maid respectfully bowed and retreated.
From the moment they entered the palace, Rossi had barely spoken.
She put down her book, picked up a lantern from the table, and in a hoarse voice said to Lin Jing, “Come with me.”
Lin Jing was not unfamiliar with this path. Following the staircase downward, he found himself in the very same basement as before. This time, however, it was no longer in the state of disarray he had previously encountered. Now, the books were neatly arranged on the shelves.
The princess lit the candles on the table and said, “This was my mother’s basement. She came from Pars, a land where everyone worships the gods of sorcery. As a princess of Pars, my mother had studied magic herself. These are the books she collected during her lifetime—perhaps among them, you’ll find the answer you seek for breaking the spell of eternal slumber.”
“But,” the princess paused, “you need to give me some time.”
Lin Jing felt conflicted. “It’s fine, I’m not in a hurry.”
I need to save the future you, but right now, I don’t even know how to go back.
The princess gazed at him in silence, as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, she remained quiet.
She was a very strange princess—nothing like the kind, sweet, and lovely ones in fairy tales. Instead, she was cold, reclusive, and unpredictable.
In fact, from behind that door, he had never once doubted her witch identity.
It was as if witches were supposed to be like this.
But then, she had escaped from the castle, breaking down in tears amidst the sea of flowers, and the letter she had written was filled with sorrow.
Lin Jing met her gaze and sighed softly, finally understanding—she was just a sensitive and lonely girl, using her aloof and withdrawn nature as a shield to protect herself.
At the highest point of the palace, Lin Jing met the King of Eberon for the first time.
To thank him for rescuing the princess, the king received him personally.
He didn’t seem like a devoted husband or a ruthless father. Instead, he was more like an aging prince.
The king asked him many questions—mostly about how the princess had fared in the forest. By the time he was done asking, tears were trailing down his aged face.
Lin Jing watched him silently, saying nothing.
The king seemed to have aged even more in that moment, and finally, he waved his hand, dismissing him.
Lin Jing sighed. Maybe the king had his reasons for years of neglect, but the wounds left by time could never truly heal.
The princess was a fast reader. By noon on the third day, she summoned him to the garden and opened the grimoire, pointing to a specific page.
“This is the closest spell I could find—the Curse of the Demon Vine.”
Lin Jing frowned. “Demon vine?”
The princess nodded. “It’s a plant that grows deep in the forests of Pals. Its thorns contain venom, and anyone pricked by them falls into a deep sleep—very similar to your sister’s condition. The only cure for the demon vine’s poison is its own fruit. In ancient times, powerful witches could summon it directly from the earth for battle, but nowadays, witchcraft has nearly disappeared. You’ll need to obtain seeds and grow it yourself.”
Lin Jing was stunned. “Can’t I just go to the Pals Forest and find one? Why do I have to grow it myself?”
The princess shook her head. “Wild demon vines rarely bloom or bear fruit. They must be nurtured with blood from their infancy in order to produce fruit.”
Lin Jing: “…” That’s ridiculously sinister. Definitely worthy of the word “demon.”
“So, I must go to Pals Forest,” he concluded.
The princess shook her head again. “No need. I’ve already issued a bounty. Someone will bring the seeds.”
Lin Jing hesitated for a moment before saying, “Thank you, Your Highness.”
The princess, looking exhausted, replied, “First, find a flowerpot.”
Then, she added a specific instruction: “Get one from the church.”
Lin Jing nodded and wisely refrained from asking why. Did he even need to? Obviously, it had to be sanctified to suppress the demonic nature of the vine!
The princess had faint dark circles under her eyes—probably from staying up night after night reading the grimoire. After giving her instructions, she went to rest.
Lin Jing, carrying the little rat, took a carriage to the church, accompanied by a palace maid.
On Mondays, the church wasn’t very crowded. The maid didn’t take him to the prayer room but instead led him through the corridor to the back.
Behind the church was a garden with a massive tree. Its branches were lush and full, and many white doves perched upon them—perhaps the same ones from the plaza.
The flowers and plants flourished, the pathways were neat and clean, and in the distance stood a school.
The school was built near the church, likely an idea conceived by nobles to benefit their descendants.
Since it was currently the holiday season, the building was cold and empty, devoid of any people.
Lin Jing glanced around and couldn’t help but ask, “Where exactly are we going?”
The maid, afraid of upsetting him, quickly explained, “We’re almost there. My apologies, Miss. I inquired with the people at the church, and they said the flowerpots are at the school—it was an assignment given by the teachers.”
Flower-growing homework?!
Lin Jing inhaled sharply, suddenly reminded of the terror his mother instilled in him as a child.
The maid led him up to the fifth floor. Naturally, a school designed for nobles was unlike any other.
The classrooms were exceptionally spacious, with rows of finely carved desks. A faint fragrance of roses lingered in the air, and the tall glass windows took up nearly a quarter of the walls. Even the neatly arranged flowerpots by the windows had rims coated in a subtle layer of gold.
The students’ assignment was to grow sunflowers, and most had grown beautifully, their golden blooms turned toward the sun. Only one pot in the farthest corner remained empty.
The little rat poked its head out and snickered, “Hahaha, what’s this? Someone just planted a pot of dirt?”
Lin Jing couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, I’ll take this one.”
It was just an empty pot—no guilt in taking it.
Each flowerpot had a name beneath it, but the owner of this one seemed to have been so frustrated that they had scribbled over their name in ink.
Lin Jing carried the flowerpot back to the palace. While waiting for the seeds to arrive, he spent most of his time talking with the young princess.
Rossi’s voice was still damaged. With others, she communicated through gestures and eye contact, but she was willing to speak to him.
The place she liked to stay the most was her mother’s underground chamber—perhaps the only place in the entire palace that still held warm memories for her.
“Do you think witchcraft really exists in this world?” Lin Jing asked one day, staring at the pile of grimoires.
Other than that ridiculous teleportation array, he hadn’t actually seen anything truly supernatural.
Evelyn didn’t know witchcraft, the young princess—despite being divinely blessed—didn’t know it either, and even the vine that stung the princess was just a natural plant.
The existence of witches itself seemed questionable.
The princess lifted her head from the book. “Why wouldn’t it?”
Lin Jing met her gaze.
She lowered her eyes again, the light casting shadows on her eyelashes. Staring at the page, she murmured, “Have you ever heard of The River of Memories?”
“It’s the simplest form of witchcraft—a kiss to awaken a lover’s memories. In fact, I can do it too.”
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