Witch

witch

I am a witch who has lived for hundreds of years and seen through the vicissitudes of life. Originally, I used witchcraft to preserve my youth and life simply because I was afraid of death. But the longer I live, the more I realize that life is nothing more than a glass of stale water to me, not only bland but also not fresh.

Drifting from one city to another, living a life of concealment, I was initially always worried about being discovered. But I eventually realized that people no longer paid as much attention to those around them as they used to; you could tell just by looking at their indifferent eyes. So I settled down in the city and opened a small flower shop to pass the time. And the flower shop was named "Drugs."

I have no friends, and my identity and life don't allow me to. It's not that I'm not lonely, but what can I do? To gain some things, you must lose others. Just like hundreds of years ago, when I urged my boyfriend to join me in the pursuit of immortality, he firmly refused. I could only watch him grow old and die, life after life, each time ending in a tragic breakup. That's something I can't understand, and all I can do is live on, wait for his next life, and hope that one day I can move him.

It was almost evening, and I had sold most of the flowers. Feeling disheartened, I prepared to close up shop. A woman rushed in, her eyes red and swollen, her voice hoarse: "A bouquet of red roses, thank you."

There were only a few withered roses left in the barrel. I said apologetically, "Look, these roses aren't very fresh. How about we replace them with other flowers? These lilies are quite nice though."

She sighed, but remained stubborn: "I only want red roses."

Although I wouldn't call myself kind, I couldn't possibly sell flowers like that to a customer. Suddenly, a thought flashed through my mind—hadn't I kept some roses for myself? I quickly asked the customer to wait a moment, went inside, and took the roses out of the crystal vase. The flowers were fresh and delicate, half-open, so shy and beautiful.

She gratefully accepted it, paying as she did so, tears streaming down her face: "Thank you, Hancheng will definitely like it."

Seoul? That seems to be a man's name. I casually asked, "Is it for your boyfriend?"

She gave a sorrowful smile, leaving me only with a heavy silhouette. The shop door closed, the doorbell still ringing incessantly. I didn't care; other people's affairs were none of my concern, why bother with curiosity? I just needed to live my own life.

I thought the woman was just a passerby, but to my surprise, she soon became a regular at the flower shop, arriving promptly at 5:30 every day to buy flowers, always red roses, ignoring all other blooms. So, as time went on, I would make a point of saving a bouquet of red roses for her.

One drizzly day in April, business was slow. I was yawning and almost fell asleep at the counter. The doorbell woke me up. It was her again. I hadn't seen her for a day, and she looked haggard with lifeless eyes. She forced a smile: "A bouquet of white roses, thank you."

I was stunned for a moment, wondering if I had misheard: "What?"

"A bouquet of white roses, thank you." She repeated patiently, then turned away to secretly wipe her tears.

She was a special customer, which piqued my curiosity: "Why did you change to white roses today?"

"He's dying..." she said, breaking down in tears.

Oh, I see. Women are always prone to heartbreak, thinking of their former lovers, whom they could not be with in each lifetime, and they cannot help but feel sad and heartbroken.

"I'm willing to pay any price, as long as Han Cheng can live, but..."

Hearing her say that, I was moved and pressed her for more information: "Are you truly sincere? Are you willing to sacrifice yourself as long as the other person lives?"

"Yes, I would rather sacrifice myself if possible." Seeing the determination in her eyes, I felt as if I could see him solemnly saying to me, "No, Xiao Luo, I don't want immortality. Birth, aging, sickness, and death are ordained by God, and I am willing to accept them." A thought flashed through my mind, and suddenly my heart, which had been stagnant for a long time, seemed to start beating again.

In a split second, I made a decision, a decision that went against my initial vow to remain uninvolved. Looking up, I smiled slightly: "I can help you."

"Help me with what?" she asked me, somewhat bewildered.

"Save your lover."

A look of doubt and amusement flashed across her eyes. "Even the doctors and professors at the hospital can't do anything about it, what can you possibly do?"

"Because I am a witch," I said calmly.

She stared wide-eyed in disbelief. I grew impatient: "I'm losing patience. Are you going to save her or not?"

"Are you really a witch?" She looked me up and down.

I closed the door behind me and led her into the inner room. "Come in with me, and you'll see."

The inner room, which no one had entered, was filled with candles and various herbs. She was so astonished that she could hardly speak: "You..."

"Saving people is something I'm very good at, and saving your loved one is not difficult either, but it requires sacrificing yourself. Can you do that?"

Without hesitation, she replied, "Yes."

In the hundreds of years of my life, I have helped two women. One gave her a drug to win back her unfaithful lover, and the other paid a high price for her beauty. But neither of those women met a good end; they both died tragically, while she had to pay the ultimate price to save her lover's life.

I was focused on preparing the potion, and at that moment I felt like the hateful witch in the mermaid story. My movements froze involuntarily. "Your tears."

---Magpie Bridge Fairy

Reply [4]: It went very smoothly, and the crystal tears fell into the bowl, “your blood.”

Without hesitation, she bit her index finger and dripped her blood into the liquid. Wisps of smoke rose from the bowl, gradually enveloping the entire room, and the originally murky, paste-like liquid transformed into a clear, transparent medicinal broth.

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay, he'll recover after drinking it, but you'll lose your life in three days. Do you want to reconsider?"

"No," she said firmly. I carefully poured the medicine into a glass bottle and handed it to her.

“In return, your soul will belong to me,” I proposed the terms of the exchange.

She smiled faintly, "Making a deal with the devil? But I'm willing."

As I watched her leave, I wondered with great interest how the ending would unfold, and whether it would surprise me.

Three days later, I received her soul as I had wished, a soul that was both sorrowful and content.

She told me she had no regrets, and I smiled calmly, saying nothing. The copper basin in the inner room always held half a basin of water, so I could see what I wanted to see without leaving the room. Since her arrival, the water mirror had become her exclusive possession; she gazed so sadly at the figures reflected in it.

"Han Cheng has been discharged from the hospital," she said.

Han Cheng misses her, she said.

Han Cheng was crying for her, she said.

...

My ears were filled with the phrase "How is Han Cheng?" and "How is Han Cheng?" After hearing it so many times, I couldn't help but get annoyed and scolded, "You'll regret this someday."

Startled, she pursed her lips and remained silent, hiding to the side, still carefully gazing at her lover's image in the water mirror. I couldn't help but sigh.

Gradually, another woman appeared by Han Cheng's side—a gentle and skilled woman. I observed coldly, noticing her pain. She had saved her lover, sacrificing herself, and now he was about to start a new life. How could she not be heartbroken?

She forced a smile at me: "He still has a bright future ahead of him, of course he can't let me be lonely for the rest of his life."

Are you trying to fool me? A witch who's been around for hundreds of years, what can't she see through? I scoffed.

The water mirror truthfully rev

……