TSFLIP Chapter 833

Zhou Xing was brought back to life—but only as an infant, his memories wiped clean, a blank slate starting over.

Fengguang, however, had only sixteen years left to live. She stayed at Wuqiuguan and watched Zhou Xing grow up day by day. When his sixteenth birthday approached, she quietly left without telling anyone.

Later, in a quiet, unknown town, a strikingly handsome young man settled into an old residence with a baby girl in his arms. Some claimed they were father and daughter; others insisted they were siblings… either way, people assumed they were related by blood. Fifteen years later, the girl, now grown, confessed her long-held feelings to the man who had raised her. She believed he felt the same, even though he always kept a careful emotional distance.

Unable to bear that uncertainty any longer, she confronted him directly. Despite her honesty and courage, Zhou Xing refused to commit to her and instead left without explanation. Fengguang searched for him for a long time. Only through Yifu’s clues did she finally find him—already gone.

Sixteen proved to be an important number:
—At sixteen, she regained all memories from her past life.
—At sixteen, Zhou Xing’s life ended again.
—And at sixteen, the cycle began anew.

Zhou Xing was reborn once more, a child with no memory. And again, Fengguang disguised herself as his attendant, staying by his side as he grew. As he reached adolescence, his memories slowly resurfaced. Realizing the truth of their intertwined fates, he confessed his intention to marry her.

But on the day of the wedding, Fengguang fled.

When Zhou Xing finally found her at a small rural farm, she was expecting a child. A few months later, Xiaoxiao was born, and not long afterward, Fengguang’s shortened lifespan ran out.

As Zhou Xing’s memories fully snapped into place, the truth of their endless cycle nearly drove him to madness. He wanted only one thing—to break the chain and let Fengguang live. But Daoist Wuqiu had vanished from the world. Zhou Xing searched relentlessly for years, yet found nothing but a gravestone. Not even a master could escape mortality.

“Papa…” Four-year-old Xiaoxiao clung nervously to his hand as they stood before the grave. She watched her father’s black hair turn white in an instant.

Zhou Xing pulled his hand away, pressing his palm to his forehead. After a long, silent moment, he let out a low, bitter laugh.

He remembered a story Fengguang once told him:
“The man died. The woman brought him back to life, but at the cost of half her own lifespan—and only as a child. He would have to grow up again to recall their past. But by the time he finally remembered and returned to her, she had already died. And so he revived her the same way.”