But no matter what happens, she should focus on the task of making the bracelet first.
After you collect all the shells needed, you sit down by the shore, waiting for Hanying to finish making the bracelet. It doesn't take long before she completes the rest.
Thank you, Commandant. Honestly, I should be the one taking care of this, but I ended up asking you for help.
Anxious... am I?
The commandant is right. Whether it's the Dance of Goddess Luo or the bracelet, she's honestly terrified—terrified she'll let people down.
It's like if she doesn't live up to those expectations, she'll be cast aside again.
Is she relying too much on the commandant? Is her vulnerability going to be a burden?
If this goes on, she will end up trapped in that endless cycle of indecision all over again.
The emotion and motivation for her dance... that motivation...
She tries to find a quick answer that satisfies her, but the more she rushes, the more it backfires.
You notice Hanying is still feeling low and suggest the idea, hoping to distract her from her worries.
...Is that okay? I feel like I'm taking up too much of your time. It's already late. If you're tired, maybe you should go back and rest, Commandant.
Even though that's not really what she wants, her concern for your health prompts her to confirm.
Hanying realizes this unspoken kindness is a quiet show of concern. Feeling grateful, she stops refusing and accepts without hesitation.
You continue along the route you took earlier. The footprints you left on the shore are still there, untouched by the tide.
Even though the sights along the way remain unchanged, you were so caught up in picking up shells that you barely stopped to admire the scenery around.
No dust has stained the water blending with the skies; A lonely wheel-like moon shines brilliant far and wide.
This single verse is all that comes to Hanying's mind when she looks out at the sea and sees the moon's reflection seamlessly merge into the waves.
Though the poem enchants, it can't mask the moon's lonely glow. That's the chill at the summit: no matter how high you rise, you stand alone.
But...
Things are different for her now.
Hanying instinctively turns to gaze at you.
On this long night, someone is willing to stay with her, taking in the pale moonlight and the serene breeze together.
You pause for a moment, then pull out your terminal and start playing a soft, airy tune.
You walk in step with the music, feeling your pace slow and relaxed. As you stroll along and chat about casual things, Hanying seems to forget her troubles, at least for a little while.
Time slips by until Hanying suggests a quick break. The two of you sit on the beach, facing the sea, still talking as you watch the distant waves.
The music reaches a line about stars and the moon. Together, you look up at the night sky. The weather is especially clear, revealing a blanket of twinkling stars at a glance.
Countless stars fall into the water's mirror, weaving with moonlight into a feathered gown.
Hanying quietly speaks the lyrics, her eyes on the distant stars. Memories float to the surface, but instead of sorrow, they only bring a gentle calm to her heart.
The past floats away like smoke. She still honors the souls she has lost, but she refuses to sink into sorrow.
Every scene carries emotion. The person by her side, this very setting—all of it points her toward a hopeful future.
The sky and the stars tonight look breathtaking.
It's not just a compliment to the night's beauty; it also reflects the calm that she feels from being with the one beside her.
Hanying nods.
Yeah, I want to stay as faithful to the legend as possible.
Hearing this, Hanying gives you a poised smile.
Well then, I'll give it a try right now.
This... is a private show meant just for you, Commandant.
With those words, Hanying stands and steps forward. The water barely reaches her ankles, reflecting her image like a perfect mirror beneath her feet.
Is it because the music sparks a hidden flame in her heart? She feels her body soar like a bird, free and weightless.
Everything before her becomes her stage. Moonlight pours across the dark curtain of night, and the water's shimmering glow reflects on her, transforming into her dance attire.
She moves like an ethereal silhouette, each step creating a gentle ripple.
The music continues, and Hanying stays immersed in the joy of her dance. Even with only one person watching, she gives it her all.
Every movement comes from pure instinct, with no conscious need to plan or choreograph. Before she knows it, she has completed the entire dance.
As the music fades away, Hanying stops, letting the quiet envelop her, and turns to face her lone spectator.
It's as if a goddess glances back, calming vast seas and soaring mountains with a single look.
Then, a burst of clear applause rings out. The momentary spell of immersion vanishes, and a sudden rush of nerves takes hold of Hanying.
She worries that her recent burst of excitement might have made her lose her composure.
Commandant... do you think I'm acting strange right now?
She hesitates, finally voicing her concern. Even though the scenery and music fill her with emotion, she doesn't want to come across as rude.
Did the commandant enjoy her dance? Somehow, that's the only thought lingering in her mind.
Hearing those words, Hanying brightens up, slipping right back into her earlier carefree mood. She steps toward the beach, and you two keep walking along the shore.
Hanying smiles softly, as though there's nothing to regret.
As long as my dance stays with you, that's all I need.
She carries a hidden longing she never voices; under the moonlight, no other scene catches her eye.
The commandant's approval alone gives her all the affirmation she needs.
Thinking about this, Hanying wonders if it's what she's been looking for all this time.
She has a clearer idea now, but she still can't be certain.
Commandant, about that dance... do you think I interpreted and performed it the right way?
These words stir something in Hanying. She thinks back to how she felt just a moment ago—that sudden urge to dance for someone special.
As soon as the words are said, a gust of sea breeze whips up, tossing her hair and momentarily blurring her vision.
When that ethereal, almost chant-like wind settles and her sight clears, she finds she has somehow ended up on the other side of the beach.
This is where Pulao plans to host the bonfire party. To see how long the fuel lasts, she kept the fire going even after everyone left, and it's still burning now.
The two of you step up to the bonfire.
A seashell bracelet appears before Hanying, looking noticeably different from the one she just finished.
There isn't any intricate weaving or fancy pattern—just a simple string of shells, clearly put together in a rush.
This is...
Flames blaze before her, and behind her, the moon moves into place. Its glow inches closer until a bright beam bathes the spot in silver.
Hanying can't see how the bracelet's reflection appears in her own eyes, but she knows it must be a view unlike any other.
Flames flicker, shifting into a dazzling glow—sometimes bursting into fireworks against the night sky. Suddenly, it's like stepping into an old Kowloong poem about a bygone Lantern Festival, a gentle nostalgia stirring as you look back.
Under the fading lights, that special one is already here—right before her eyes, in her heart, and by her side.
Right now, a seabird lands on the shore. The person before her carefully approaches and, once sure the bird is not startled, reaches out and gently pets it.
One person and one bird linger together in the calm of the night, sharing a gentle, carefree sense of joy that settles over the darkness.
The person eagerly shares each view and every bit of fun, and Hanying takes it all in. Still, her heart holds only that one's smile.
You stand on the bridge, gazing at the scenery, while someone on the bridge gazes at you.
Tonight, these verses Hanying had once read keep drifting through her mind, and she thinks it must be a stirring of emotions, a resonance from within.
Is this what counts as progress? A new step toward understanding "emotion"? As Hanying takes in the scenery before her, she feels she has begun to understand a small part of Goddess Luo's emotions.
She remembers asking the commandant earlier about going back to rest. Even though her logical side warns her not to act on impulse, she can still hear a voice deep inside her heart, calling out.
It's not enough. Tonight's time together feels too short. It's as though she has forgotten how time slips away, caught up in the joy and unwilling to let it end.
She wonders if the night can stretch on forever, so dawn never arrives. Only now does she realize just how greedy she has become.
Is this what people mean by "attachment"?
This subconscious dependence may be seen as one's weakness, but she can't deny how badly she wants it. She craves deeper bonds, a companionship that truly lasts.
Even someone like her isn't immune to this "greedy longing."
Was it the same for Goddess Luo? Did her brief encounter by the Luo River stir such longing that she performed the Dance of Goddess Luo?
Hanying tries to use this idea to form an answer, but it still doesn't feel quite right.
Hanying snaps back to the present, realizing she's been so absorbed in her own thoughts that she hasn't responded to the person right in front of her.
My apologies, I got carried away. I'm okay—it's just that I'm thinking about the dance... and I already have a few ideas of my own.
The soul... of the dance?
The lively seabird looks your way. Perhaps drawn by the glimmer of the bracelet Hanying crafted, it swoops in and lands right in front of her.
Hanying kneels down, softly running her hand over its feathers. She recalls the earlier topic, and a thoughtful look settles on her face.
Commandant, do you think a mechanoid can really perform a dance that's filled with genuine emotions?
Is it possible for... a mechanoid to capture the same living spark that sets humans and animals apart from cold steel?
Like the emotions already mentioned, the word "soul" comes across as an unattainable luxury to Hanying.
The person before her, the seabird she touches so gently, and every living creature she has seen in the ocean—each one harbors a "soul" that is uniquely their own.
It's something she lost before she even had the chance to embrace it.
Can a mechanoid ever have a soul? She hasn't examined the question in depth. While mechanoids are inherently capable of calculation and imitation, they lack the gift of true perception and empathy.
There are plenty of things in this world that you simply can't achieve by copying someone else.
Maybe the fear and confusion she felt earlier are actually a subconscious kind of self-denial—something Hanying never even notices herself.
Deep down, she believes she can't truly grasp what "emotion" means.
Can a mechanoid truly share the same perception and insight as a human? It's an unanswered question that might remain unsolved.
But how to define "emotion" in the first place? Humans can't pin it down, and machines can't measure it.
If she imitates human actions, does she truly grasp emotion? She cries and laughs like they do—but is that really all it takes?
Right now, she finally realizes that the answer to this question isn't all that important to her after all.
All she wants is for someone to notice her smiles and tears, to see them completely and hold them in their heart.
Emotion only becomes real when there's genuine, two-way feedback.
Learning to love begins with the awareness that you are loved.
As mentioned before, Hanying has been so afraid of losing what she has that she begins to lose herself along the way.
She scours that elusive legend for any sign of the bygone era, hoping to reclaim its lost glory. But the noise around her is overwhelming, and she begins to lose sight of who she really is.
She's used to defining her whole existence by holding onto a specific "value." When that value can't be achieved, she instinctively worries that she no longer has any reason to stay.
From the moment she comes into being, she follows strict, function-oriented principles—an unbending logic she can't easily escape.
It's both her comfortable habit and her binding shackle.
"If I can't fulfill expectations, I'll be discarded." This fear drives her unease.
Then someone tells her she doesn't need a "useful purpose" to justify herself. Her mere existence is all the proof she needs for others to stand by her side.
Just like in the legend from a thousand years ago, a passing nobleman gave the lost Goddess Luo a mesmerizing encounter.
This time too, someone reaches out to take Hanying's hand, leading her away from that swirling current.
At its core, creation is about understanding and expression. Every version of the dance is really just the "Goddess Luo" people want to believe in.
Hopeless romantics see a love story, while the ambitious see their grand ideal.
The dance is like a mirror, in which each observer sees a unique reflection.
Each person who looks upon Goddess Luo only sees the version of themselves they imagine.
As for Hanying, what does she see when she peers into the water's reflection?
I think... I've finally found my own motivation and emotion for dancing.
In other people's eyes, Cao Zhi might be Goddess Luo's beloved or her fated soulmate, but to me...
That was her "rebirth."
Before she became a radiant deity, Goddess Luo also once sank into the mire of despair.
She died unjustly, endured captivity, and trudged through a path strewn with mud and thorns. By the time her flesh was torn and bloodied, she finally reached the moment of divine worship.
What did it matter to be revered as a goddess? In all the years since her confinement, she still had never once stepped beyond these boundaries.
Until the day that person appeared.
Maybe this encounter was just too short, its breathtaking spark gone in a heartbeat. He didn't know her past, and he couldn't share the future with her.
But at last, she got to be someone's "most important person," even if it was only this once.
The encounter between Cao Zhi and Goddess Luo—that was the world he showed her. His presence and the poem he left behind let her rediscover her own purpose.
That is an emotion Hanying knows all too well, something that evokes a vague sense of deja vu.
She offers her own response to the dance, revealing the "emotion" she associates with Goddess Luo.
No need to overthink it—perhaps it's the simplest thing in the world.
She understands that goddess' intention, because it resonates with her own feelings.
All because she meets someone, she wants to dance for that person, never worrying about where this journey will lead.
She only wants that one person to witness her dance—nothing more.
Thank you, Commandant. I'm certain I won't feel lost anymore after this.
With you here, I have all I need to grasp every emotion and sensation.
By the banks of the Luo River, Goddess Luo found her own "rebirth."
At this very moment, on this shore, Hanying, too, encounters the hope she's been yearning for.
She has found... the person she wants to dance for.
As this realization dawns on her, Hanying loosens her hair and looks toward the nearby moonlight—her signal to wade into the water and begin her performance.
I already know how I want to interpret the Dance of Goddess Luo. Commandant, can I invite you to be the very first to witness it?
The Dance of Goddess Luo will be performed underwater, so I've set up a projector on the seafloor. Just relax and watch, Commandant.
There is one part, though... It feels like a ritual, in a way. I'd like your help with it, Commandant.
It's just a small favor I'm asking for myself.
In that ancient tale, Cao Zhi held the water as his mirror, trying to see his own reflection. Then, all at once, Goddess Luo emerged from the surface.
Their brief contact—a single glance—left him spellbound.
Hanying plans to recreate that legendary moment exactly. As she finishes her emergence from the water, she wants you to come closer and watch at the water's edge.
Hanying sees the transition from beneath the water's surface to the shore as the dawn of Goddess Luo's rebirth. She wants you to see, with your own eyes, the exact moment she completes her "transformation" in this dance.
Moments ago, the shell bracelet was given to her; now it rests on Hanying's wrist. With every step, its chimes mingle with the sea breeze, echoing like a graceful poem from ancient legends.
The terminal starts playing the accompanying music for the dance, its lyrics adapted from Ode to Goddess Luo.
Word by word, the tale gently unfolds.
It's the third year of Huangchu; I return to the Luo River's shore,
Where rocky banks unveil a beauty I cannot ignore.
Swift as a startled swan, she glides away from my sight.
I reach for the far shore, but it fades into the night.
The water goddess is Fufei, ensnared by marshland's snare;
Luo's depths pull her downward, as though no mortal may care.
The abyss yawns around her, a vast uncharted sea.
Alone, even a goddess stands, with no soul to set her free.
A quiet voice awakens, soft as a dream's secret art.
A withered tree finds spring, while parted clouds let moonlight start.
A crimson river tumbles down, a fleeting lull from strife;
Yet at midnight's radiant spark, the yellow-millet dream slips from life.
Travelers scatter quickly once the final music plays,
Nightmares twist into illusions, merging in haunted arrays.
Dawn once glimmered softly—now deep gloom sets its stage;
Life foams and ebbs in moments, where love and hate both rage.
I reclaim what was lost in every greeting and adieu, a silent wish in each goodbye for what I hope is true.
Mountains cradle tender shoots, and lotus flowers sway;
A guiding light within my heart keeps the darkness at bay.
The one I yearn for lingers by the water's gentle edge,
A galaxy in her gaze, revealed with every pledge.
We journey upstream hand in hand, unafraid of the cold; Frost lingers until dawn breaks—our story yet untold.
I set my heart adrift upon this endless, longing tide,
Drawn so fiercely to the far shore, all else is cast aside.
I chase the wind and moon, no barrier in my way to see you.
Graceful as a startled swan, elegant as a wandering dragon.
The song reaches its final verse, its echo resonating deep in the heart. Moonlight dances on the water's surface, perfectly aligned to catch her gaze.
Had the once-imprisoned goddess found a reborn sense of self? The answer is obvious.
Ocean currents distort vision, but once one breaks free, everything becomes crystal clear. So the moment Hanying surfaces, her entire field of vision snaps into sharp focus.
She sees it now—her own reflection, mirrored in the eyes that look straight into hers.
Through others as a mirror, one comes to know life's warmth and chill. Like savoring a sip only one can taste, like floating in a sea that carries all.
At first glance, a closeness so true, we hold this bond as though we always knew.
If she can turn back time, she wants to deliver a single message to her past self.
She would say, "The road is treacherous, but tomorrow still shines with hope. One day, someone will be there, waiting for you at the end."
The sea is crystal clear, and they are so close that she can see her own reflection mirrored in the other's eyes.
It's like a spotless mirror, guiding her to see who she truly is.
At a glance, the sky becomes a galaxy pouring down, converging in the emerald water at its center.
