Immortal Travel of Longevity

Spring, summer, autumn, winter—the four seasons cycled without pause.

Before long, another three years had passed.

As the peach blossoms bloomed and withered, giving way to summer fruit, it also meant that Mister would soon be returning.

Aqing had already picked the best peaches of early summer, along with the peach wine she had brewed the year before.

When dawn broke, that figure appeared in the Peach Grove, just as promised.

"Want a peach?" she asked.

Aqing looked at him; few words passed between the two of them.

The years had become difficult to measure.

Within Reincarnation, there were no more chess games.