The smell of meat woke Bai Yue from her slumber.

For a split second, she forgot where she was. Forgot everything. Her eyes fluttered open expecting to see the wooden ceiling of her hut, Zhēn curled against her side, the sound of her husbands arguing about breakfast.

Then reality crashed back in.

She was still on the log. Still alone. Still in a Thousand Fang that didn’t know her.

The cooking fire had been relit. Mo Xiao stood beside it, stirring something in a clay pot. He glanced at her when she sat up, narrowing his eyes.

"You slept," he said. "That’s good."

Bai Yue didn’t feel good. Her head throbbed. Her eyes were swollen from crying. Her chest felt hollow, like someone had reached inside and scooped out everything that mattered.

"Where am I?" she asked. Her voice came out rough, scraped raw.

"Thousand Fang," Mo Xiao said. "You knew that last night."

"No. I mean—" She pressed her palms to her eyes. "When is this? What year? What season?"

Mo Xiao’s brow furrowed. He set down his stirring stick and walked over to her, crouching so they were at eye level.

"You’re not from here," he said slowly.

"No."

"Where are you from?"

Bai Yue laughed, her tone rushed and hard. "That’s... complicated."

She didn’t tell him everything. She couldn’t. How do you explain to a stranger that you’re from a timeline that might never exist? That his triplets were supposed to be running around this clearing right now? That she was supposed to be home?

She told him enough. That she was lost. That she was looking for people she loved. That she didn’t know how to find them.

Mo Xiao listened without interrupting. When she finished, he was quiet for a long moment.

"The river," he said finally. "You said you fell into a river."

"Yes."

"A black river?"

"I....I don’t know what it’s called here. It was dark. Still. The water didn’t move."

Mo Xiao’s expression shifted. Something flickered in his amber eyes, recognition or maybe just the shape of it.

"There are stories," he said slowly. "About that river. The elders say it doesn’t just flow through this world. They say it touches others. Places beyond the veil."

"Great," Bai Yue muttered. "So I’m not just lost. I’m cosmically lost."

Mo Xiao’s lips twitched again. "Eat first. Then we’ll figure it out."

~

The days blurred together.

Bai Yue stayed in Thousand Fang. Mo Xiao didn’t ask her to leave, and she had nowhere else to go. The beastmen regarded her with wary curiosity. Elder Zhao asked too many questions, and the crane elder avoided her completely.

She helped with cooking. With gathering. With the small, mundane tasks that filled the hours between sunrise and sunset.

But every night, she sat by the fire and stared at the stars.

Why am I here? How will I get them back? she thought. Do you remember me at all?

The stars didn’t answer.

~

On the fifth night, she finally broke.

She walked to the edge of the clearing, away from the sleeping huts, away from Mo Xiao’s watchful eyes. She stepped further into the alive jungle, her fists tight in balls.

She had had enough.

She looked up at the sky.

"TIĀN-MÌNG!"

"I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME! THIS ISN’T FUNNY ANYMORE! SEND ME BACK! SEND THEM BACK! DO SOMETHING!"

Nothing.

"You’re supposed to be a goddess!" she screamed. "So act like one! Fix this now! Fix—"

"Are you done?"

Bai Yue spun around.

The woman standing behind her wasn’t there a moment ago. She was tall, draped in robes that shifted between colors that didn’t exist, her hair flowing like water. Her eyes held galaxies.

Tiān-Mìng looked annoyed. Like a babysitter who had been called away from something more interesting.

Bai Yue’s fury didn’t dim. If anything, it burned hotter.

"You," she spat. "You did this. You separated us, and yet you have the audacity to act like I am bothering you! You’re so cruel. You—"

"I didn’t separate you," Tiān-Mìng interrupted. She crossed her arms, looking down at Bai Yue. "The river did that. The river and your own stubbornness."

"My stubbornness?!"

"That’s no matter. You’re here, and that’s all."

Bai Yue wanted to slap her. Without processing the potential consequences of assaulting a cosmic entity, she leaned in, and landed her hand on the goddess’s face with a large swat.

Oh.

Oh.

The anger slowly dissipated, being replaced by horror.

"Hahaha?" She laughed awkwardly as the goddess glared. "Mosquito?"

Tiān-Mìng tilted her head, letting out a sigh. It was almost like she was trying to hold herself back from laughing.

"I will allow that just this time." Tiān-Mìng said slowly, and Bai Yue swallowed. She had narrowly escaped death.

Phew. Time to change the topic.

Bai Yue’s hands curled into fists.

"Send. Me. Back."

Tiān-Mìng stared at her. The goddess’s expression flickered, annoyance, amusement, and something that might have been respect all fighting for space on her ageless face.

"You just slapped me," Tiān-Mìng said slowly. "And now you’re giving me orders."

"YOU OWE ME!" Bai Yue’s voice cracked. "You dragged me into this world. You made me fall in love with them. You made me a mother. You made me fight for a family that you keep ripping away from me!"

Her chest heaved. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

"You don’t get to stand there in your fancy star robes and act like this is out of your control. You’re a GODDESS. Fix it. FIX. IT."

Tiān-Mìng was quiet for a long moment. The jungle hummed around them. Somewhere in the distance, an animal called out into the dark.

"You’re right."

Bai Yue froze. "What?"

"I said you’re right." Tiān-Mìng’s voice was softer now. The arrogance had drained out of it, replaced by something that looked almost like exhaustion. "I could send you back. I could snap my fingers and put everyone where they belong. I could untangle this whole mess in a heartbeat."

"THEN WHY HAVEN’T YOU?!"

"Because it wouldn’t mean anything."

Bai Yue stared at her.

Tiān-Mìng stepped closer. Her robes brushed the grass, leaving trails of starlight that faded as quickly as they appeared.

"I wanted to see if you’d choose them," the goddess said quietly. "Not because you had to. Not because the world was ending. Not because I gave you a quest with a timer. I wanted to see if you’d wake up in a world without them and still fight your way back."

Bai Yue’s hands trembled.

"You’ve been in this timeline for five days," Tiān-Mìng continued. "You’re lost. You’re alone. No one knows who you are. No one remembers you. And what have you done?"

"I’ve been crying," Bai Yue said bitterly.

"You’ve been surviving. You’ve been eating. You’ve been helping. You’ve been sitting by the fire every night staring at the stars, thinking about them." Tiān-Mìng tilted her head. "You haven’t given up. Not once."

"Because I’m an idiot."

"Because you love them." The goddess’s voice was barely a whisper. "That’s what I wanted to see. Not duty. Not obligation. Not a quest. Just... love."

Bai Yue wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "That’s cruel. You put us through all of this for a philosophy experiment?"

"I’m a goddess," Tiān-Mìng said, and for once she didn’t sound proud of it. "We’re not known for our emotional intelligence."