Xiao Nanhui helped Li Yuanyuan move the plum tree to a slope in front of the valley.
It was a small, sun-drenched hill on the southern side of Mount Taozhi, facing the wind. They dug the hole amidst sand and stone, right next to a few gnarled little pines, directly overlooking the mountain gate that led into the valley.
Plum trees were best transplanted in late autumn or early winter, but this one of Li Yuanyuan’s was already half-dead. Xiao Nanhui felt it was time to treat a dead horse as if it were alive.
Initially, the elder felt the spot she had chosen was poor. The ground was composed of sandy soil and rock, and it sat right in a wind gap; she feared the north wind would pour through there come winter.
But Xiao Nanhui told her: plum trees did not fear barren soil or biting winds. What they feared was over-fertilization, waterlogging, and stagnant, enclosed air. Only a plum tree that could endure the bitter winter could truly burst into bloom.
Li Yuanyuan insisted this was some crooked logic instilled in her by the ignorant Su Pingchuan, but in the end, she tacitly accepted the tree's new location, though she left the sword in its original place.
"Plums blooming on Taozhi is a good omen," Xiao Nanhui comforted her.
She said they would know if the tree had survived when the snow fell the following year. Li Yuanyuan merely shouldered her hoe and walked down the slope without a word. By the time Xiao Nanhui followed her back onto the muddy path leading into the valley, she realized the sun was already sinking in the west.
The evening light was warm and soft. Everything in the valley was bathed in a golden, fuzzy glow. Luo He and Ding Weixiang were busy by the earthen stove in front of the stone house. Clouds of steam rose from the pots, lingering before the moss-covered stone steps.
Li Yuanyuan took one look and gave a cold snort.
"Unfit for great tasks."
Xiao Nanhui remained as quiet as a cicada in winter, not daring to speak.
She didn't know Luo He well, but as for Ding Weixiang, he spent the whole year traveling with his master; surely his cooking skills were passable? Yet, looking at the current state of things, he clearly failed to meet the old woman's standards.
"What? Do you think I’m flaunting my seniority to bully the youngsters?"
Xiao Nanhui instinctively shook her head, then couldn't help but nod. The other woman didn't get angry, saying as if it were only natural, "I’m not flaunting my seniority. If you had known me decades ago, you’d know I bullied my seniors just like this when I was young."
Xiao Nanhui believed that, but Ding Weixiang was no ordinary junior.
"Lieutenant Ding is from the Andao Academy, after all. If it weren't for your insistence that he feed the chickens, he’d probably rather take a few sword wounds than do such a thing."
Li Yuanyuan skillfully closed the wicker gate of the chicken coop, counting the hens as they returned.
"What kind of 'thing' is that? That old fossil Xie Li has always been good at those tricks to fish for fame. Are the bladesmen of his Andao Academy more noble than a chicken feeder? No matter what hero or master a man is, in the end, he still has to eat, drink, and sleep."
Xiao Nanhui gave a couple of dry, echoing laughs. On second thought, she felt the woman’s words made sense, though for some reason they were rather hard to swallow.
She quietly stacked the firewood she had carried on her back. Just as she turned to help at the stove, Li Yuanyuan called out to her.
"Where are you going?"
Remembering Ding Weixiang’s fate, she quickly declared her stance. "Didn't you say this place doesn't keep idle people? I’m going to lend a hand..."
"No rush." The eccentric old woman gave a mischievous chuckle and beckoned her closer. "You helped me out. I’ll allow you to name a condition."
"Helped?" Xiao Nanhui’s tone was slow, confused. "With what?"
"That tree, of course!"
Li Yuanyuan arched an eyebrow. She was clearly just being cantankerous, yet she looked as though she were in a towering rage.
Not far away, Ding Weixiang looked up from behind the stove. Xiao Nanhui awkwardly shrank her neck, suddenly feeling like a devious villain caught red-handed by a colleague while trying to curry favor through private gifts.
This was truly a great injustice.
Initially, she hadn't harbored any ulterior motives. She simply felt the woman’s story was poignant. As the former master of Pingxian, she shared an inexplicable connection with the late Mei Ruogu. Seeing her old friend now, if she could provide even a bit of solace, it was merely her duty as a fellow martial artist.
But now, she realized the woman valued that half-withered tree far more than she had imagined.
After a moment of silence, she spoke cautiously. "It’s hard to say if that tree will live or die. Perhaps you should keep an eye on it for a while longer..."
Li Yuanyuan clearly didn't want to hear that.
"You’d better pray it lives. If it dies, I’m holding you accountable. Either way, you can't escape it, so you might as well name a condition now, lest you say I took advantage of you later."
What kind of logic was this, where a favor turned into a debt? Yao Yi was right; people who meddled in others' business always died young.
Her heart felt bitter, and she didn't know what to say. She couldn't actually be thick-skinned enough to make a request, so she could only mumble, "I don't really have any wishes..."
The other woman seemed determined not to let her finish, suddenly asking, "Have you studied swordplay before?"
Xiao Nanhui froze. She hadn't expected the conversation to take such an unforeseen turn.
Coming from a military background, she wasn't like the martial artists of the *jianghu* who valued specialization over breadth. Soldiers needed to know how to kill with whatever was at hand. While she couldn't claim to be a master of all eighteen weapons, she knew a bit of everything.
But to admit to studying the sword in front of a senior of the Broken Sword Sect... she truly found it hard to say.
"I know a thing or two."
The old woman said nothing. She tossed over an iron sword and casually picked up a piece of firewood of similar thickness and length, signaling for her to attack.
Xiao Nanhui didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She remembered how Su Pingchuan had also thrown her a tree branch to spar back then. He truly was a direct descendant of this lineage.
"Please guide me, Senior."
Before her voice had even landed, the other woman had already attacked. Her style was as swift and ever-changing as Su Pingchuan’s had been that day, but it was markedly more restrained and far more unpredictable.
Xiao Nanhui focused her spirit. She had barely parried three moves before the other woman turned, swept past her, and flicked the iron sword from her hand.
Xiao Nanhui cupped her fists sheepishly. Before she could even admit defeat, the other woman had already reached a conclusion.
"With this level of skill, you can't even claim to know 'a thing or two.'"
If anyone with a reputation in the *jianghu* had heard this, they would have felt humiliated.
Sparring was supposed to be a ritual for exchange and improvement; seniors usually left some leeway for juniors. Even in duels between masters, there was an emphasis on "etiquette." Otherwise, even if one won, they would easily be branded as arrogant or lacking martial virtue.
But some people didn't care about any of that, let alone their reputation. The woman before her was one such person.
Xiao Nanhui composed herself and said submissively, "My skills are crude. I have made a fool of myself before you."
The other woman clearly felt no sense of achievement from her surrender, yet she didn't seem to intend to let her leave just yet.
"However, if I train you for a few days, you could at least claim to be a swordsman when you go out."
Li Yuanyuan spoke slowly, peeking at her expression with a childish sort of scrutiny.
Before Xiao Nanhui could react, Ding Weixiang suddenly coughed nearby, quickly shooting her a look.
She had never known this expressionless, stiff guard could have such flexible eyes. She immediately understood his meaning.
Li Yuanyuan intended to teach her swordplay.
She was surprised, but even more so, she was lost.
Since childhood, she had thought of learning the saber, the bow, even the spear—but never the sword. Because she wanted to win too badly. To establish herself in the barracks, she had to win. To survive on the battlefield, she had to win even more.
Thus, her best skill was the spear, followed by the bow. The former was taught to her by Xiao Zhun himself; the latter was the craft she had practiced most diligently in private.
The sword was not the fastest weapon for victory, and those who mastered it often did not aim for slaughter.
She had thought she would never see the day she wanted to learn the sword.
How could Li Yuanyuan fail to see the conflicted look on her face? She stepped forward, hooked her toe, and the fallen iron sword returned to her hand. With a flick of her wrist, the rusted blade actually let out a crisp chime, sinking into the trunk of a nearby camphor tree.
"The swordplay of the Broken Sword Sect excels in transformation. It takes at least ten years to go from entry-level to basic mastery. Even those who start as children mostly fail; few ever become truly skilled. You are not of my sect, and I haven't taken you as a disciple. Consider this a return for your favor. I will teach you a sword style I created myself; that way, I won't be breaking sect rules. I have little patience, so I will only wait for ten of your steps. Once this chance is gone, it’s gone. Think it over yourself."
With that, Li Yuanyuan turned and walked toward the courtyard.
One step, two steps, three steps... Xiao Nanhui clenched her fists.
Since Pingxian had broken, she felt like a falcon that had lost its feathers, a mountain goat with broken horns—stripped of her ability to fly and leap.
Perhaps the sword was not the weapon best suited for her, but she could not be without a weapon in her hand.
Four steps, five steps, six steps... her palms began to sweat.
That night on the mountain path of Douchen Ridge, if she had possessed exquisite swordplay, could she have killed Yan Zi and avenged Bo Lao?
She knew Bo Lao, Du Juan, and Uncle Chen would never return. But she still had others she wanted to protect. If she ever encountered such a situation again, was she to watch everything happen once more?
Seven steps, eight steps, nine steps... She closed her eyes, yet her heart found a long-sought peace.
She didn't necessarily have to walk with a sword every day from now on, but at this moment, she needed the ability and the courage to hold one.
The reason to hold a sword was not for slaughter, but for protection. She wanted the power to protect others.
The sunset was just right. Wisps of cooking smoke rose from the small stone house. The fed chickens were noisy in their coop, and in the distance, a flock of sheep descended the slope like a slow-moving cloud...
She stepped forward and forcefully pulled the iron sword from the camphor wood, solemnly wiping the thin layer of dust from the blade with her sleeve.
"I will trouble you, Senior."
Li Yuanyuan finally stopped and turned around with a meaningful look.
"You've decided?"
Xiao Nanhui held the iron sword before her chest, her gaze firm. "I have."
The old woman smiled. She walked up to her in a few steps and gave the iron sword a gentle twist. The blade actually split in two, becoming a pair of thin, sharp twin swords.
"These twin swords have no name, but they were modeled after the sword 'Unarm.' The blade of Unarm is two feet seven inches long, the hilt three inches five, yet it weighs only eleven taels and four mace. The edge is as thin as a cicada's wing, possessing both ultimate hardness and ultimate softness. When no internal energy is channeled, it can rest against a woman's skin without cutting it; when moved with intent, it can slice through gold and stone."
Li Yuanyuan’s smile vanished. Her entire aura changed instantly. That ordinary iron sword in her palm suddenly radiated a chilling, oppressive killing intent.
"Watch closely. I will only do this once."
"This sword style is called 'Soul-Sunder.' It has thirteen moves in total. Among those thirteen, only one is a killing move—the 'Soul' of the style. It requires one to retreat to advance, to sacrifice life for righteousness."
The old woman finished speaking and began to dance with the swords.
As her movements grew faster and the sword shadows swirled more fiercely, the idle, tranquil pastoral scenery around them seemed to blur and fade. In its place rose a majestic atmosphere, like infinite mountains and boundless seas.
In just thirteen moves, each appeared ordinary on the surface, yet they returned to a state of profound simplicity. The moves were linked head to tail, every transition smooth and connected. The flow of sword intent was so seamless it seemed almost natural.
Xiao Nanhui watched without blinking, inwardly clicking her tongue in amazement.
Li Yuanyuan wasn't even using the official swordplay of the Broken Sword Sect, yet the ingenuity of her moves was such that that boy Su Pingchuan probably hadn't even learned a tenth of it.
Reaching the final move, the elder’s footwork shifted. In the blink of an eye, she was before Xiao Nanhui. The rusted blade brushed two inches below her neck, three inches below her ribs, her inner thigh, her ankle, and finally swept up her spine, exiting through the crown of her head, before returning to the elder's hand and merging back into a single iron sword.
From rapid motion to absolute stillness, it took only a heartbeat.
Li Yuanyuan slowly lowered her hands and wiped her sweat on her hem, reverting to the appearance of a rustic farm woman. She found a stump used for chopping wood, sat down heavily, and began to fan herself with a cattail leaf fan.
"Go on."
Xiao Nanhui gathered her breath and rose with the sword.
She quickly performed the sword dance from memory, fearing that a moment’s hesitation would cause her to lose the subtle insights she had just gained. Amidst the pouring sweat, she entered a state of total immersion.
Unnoticed, the last sliver of twilight had sunk behind the mountain.
A man’s voice rose low amidst the chime of the sword.
"Why teach her?"
Li Yuanyuan glanced sideways and saw the man standing by the woodpile in coarse cloth clothes. Even in these wild hills, he possessed an ethereal quality that was utterly out of place with his surroundings.
Li Yuanyuan hated that quality, and she hated his identity even more.
"They say the Emperor of Tiancheng is precocious and calculating. Can you not even guess this small reason?"
She knew he was the Emperor, yet there was not a hint of respect in her tone. It was no better than when she had told Ding Weixiang to feed the chickens.
However, despite her intentional provocation, he showed no trace of anger, nor even surprise.
At first, she thought he was simply hiding his depth, but then she realized: he truly didn't take the emotion in her words to heart. His tone was gentle and flat, like a junior chatting with an old grandmother.
"How would I dare to presume your intentions, Senior?"
She finally retracted her prickly tone, though the deep furrows between her brows remained, impossible to smooth.
"It’s right that you can't guess, because there is no reason." The old woman finally looked away, lazily swatting mosquitoes with her fan. "Even if her taste is a bit poor and her talent is mediocre, I’ve always taught whoever I wanted to teach. If I don't want to teach someone, it’s useless even if they crack their skull kowtowing."
Su Wei nodded slightly, clearly hearing something in her words.
"She did not intend to be disrespectful to you. It is just that she was tempered on the battlefield from a young age. Amidst thousands of troops, a few feet of sharp steel has no place; it is far less effective for victory than a long spear. It is inevitable that she would look down on swordsmanship."
"What’s so good about the spear? It only adds to one's violent aura. It’s useless at critical moments, otherwise how could..." Li Yuanyuan stopped abruptly. After a long while, she barely suppressed her emotions and said listlessly, "One must look forward. Besides, the master who taught her the spear is long dead, isn't he?"
Su Wei paused in rare surprise, then shook his head gently.
"He is still alive. It is just... just that there is no difference between him being alive and being dead."
The old woman gave a gruff snort, not bothering to probe the deeper meaning of his words.
"Then that’s it. Seeing how she hesitated for a while but ultimately didn't refuse, I knew she had already bid farewell to her previous sect. She’s a wild pigeon with no one to protect her."
The man’s brow twitched, and his tone suddenly turned cold.
"She is a soldier of Tiancheng. Naturally, Tiancheng will protect her."
Li Yuanyuan sensed the change in him and turned to meet his gaze.
"My disciple was also a soldier of Tiancheng. When he was captured and taken to a fortress in Lingxi, why didn't I see anyone protecting him?"
Su Wei’s eyes met Li Yuanyuan’s, his gaze filled with an unshakeable indifference.
"Then one must ask how incompetent he was to be outschemed and ultimately fall to such a state."
The air was silent for a moment. Finally, Li Yuanyuan looked away first.
"I, Li Yuanyuan, have only ever had one disciple, and that is Su Pingchuan. No matter how incompetent he is, he is still my disciple. You granted him the title of General of the Left mostly out of respect for his father, but do you really think he is dull?" She gave a light laugh, filled with an indescribable helplessness. "He is Ruogu’s child; how could he be poor? It was just that old man of his who harbored hidden intentions, making me swear on my life that I would never teach him everything I knew. Otherwise, with his talent, he would already be the Sect Leader of the Broken Sword Sect by now."
Su Wei lowered his eyes, casually turning the page on that topic.
"A sword that is too sharp must be unsheathed; it will always break before a blunter knife. Only when the edge is slightly dull will the hand holding the blade learn to be cautious. Though it won't be the most effective weapon, it can at least spend a peaceful life in its scabbard. This is the logic of a father, not the logic of a Prince."
Li Yuanyuan laughed silently again, a hint of mockery at the corners of her mouth.
"You certainly know how to talk." She paused, then turned back to look at the woman practicing her swordplay under the camphor tree. "I just don't know how a man who talks as well as you do took a liking to that blunt and stubborn girl."
Su Wei said nothing, a gentle smile touching his brow.
He just stood there quietly, watching the woman dance with her sword under the camphor tree until night fell and the stars filled the sky.
In the small stone courtyard, semi-dry mugwort crackled in the stove, releasing plumes of blue smoke to drive away the increasingly frantic late-summer mosquitoes.
Xiao Nanhui rubbed her stomach, sighing with lingering satisfaction.
She once again felt that Li Yuanyuan’s words were absolutely right. Raising chickens was truly a respectable craft. No precious saber, famous sword, or peerless technique could compare to this pot of freshly stewed mushroom and chicken soup.
Luo He was still scraping the bottom of the pot with a wooden spoon. As he scraped, he seemed to sense something. He looked up and met the eyes of the man opposite him, instinctively lowering his head and sheepishly putting down the spoon.
There was clearly something off between these two, but she didn't know what they had discussed during the day.
Xiao Nanhui squinted as she speculated. Suddenly, another bowl of chicken soup appeared before her, almost full.
She looked up in surprise. The other man said casually, "I’m not drinking it. You have it."
Seeing this, Ding Weixiang hurriedly pushed his own soup toward the man. Before he could speak, he was irritably interrupted by Li Yuanyuan.
"It’s just a bowl of soup. Who are you performing this back-and-forth for? If word gets out, won't people say my Broken Sword Sect mistreats its guests?"
Ding Weixiang immediately lowered his head and fell silent. Li Yuanyuan glanced at Luo He, who quickly stood up and brought over a bamboo tube that had been chilling in the well, pouring out the clear, settled wine from within.
Li Yuanyuan raised her wine bowl. The clear liquid reflected the stars and moon above.
"Once you’ve drunk this round, you are guests of Li Yuanyuan. In the future, when passing through Zhongtian, you needn't take the long way. I will grant you passage through my lands; it will save you much trouble."
With that, she drained the bowl in one gulp. Luo He followed suit, and Xiao Nanhui did the same.
Ding Weixiang didn't move, his uneasy gaze flickering toward the silent man.
Li Yuanyuan frowned. "Wine and meat are here; what more could one ask for? Stop dawdling, it’s unsightly!"
While Ding Weixiang was still hesitating, Xiao Nanhui acted quickly, pulling the cup of wine from in front of the man beside her.
She still remembered who it was in Biemeng Cave who would rather die of thirst than drink a jar of fruit wine. Moreover, the current situation was special; how could she know if he would become uncontrollable like that Zou Sifang after drinking?
Even Ding Weixiang being out of control was better than him being out of control.
Xiao Nanhui nodded inwardly. She didn't want to experience what had happened at Se Hill a second time.
"He doesn't have a good head for wine. I’ll drink for him."
She was just about to lean in and drink when a hand suddenly reached out and snatched the cup from her.
She turned in shock. He had already drained the wine in the cup.
Ding Weixiang turned pale with fright. The half-eaten chicken wing Luo He had stolen from her bowl fell to the ground. Only Li Yuanyuan noticed nothing amiss, instead laughing loudly.
"That boy Su Pingchuan always complained my wine was hard to swallow and never once drank with me, his master. I thought the men of the Su family were all that picky and hard to serve, but it seems that’s not the case after all!"
Li Yuanyuan’s loud voice made Xiao Nanhui’s head ring. For a moment, she felt as if she were back in the crude wine shop in Baishi Village, and the next, she saw the food box Shan Jiangfei had checked for poison eight times.
Tonight was truly bizarre. First, they were passing a bowl of chicken soup back and forth, and now they were fighting over a cup of cheap wine. What was going on?
She looked at him with nervous unease and whispered, "Aren't you unable to..."
Li Yuanyuan was still laughing and talking to Luo He, seemingly about to go dig up some more wine buried underground.
The wine cup clattered onto the table. The man beside her suddenly stood up.
"Thank you for the fine wine tonight, Sect Leader. I will surely repay you in the future. For now, please excuse me."
They were having a perfectly good drink; where was he excusing himself to?
Xiao Nanhui remained utterly confused, but in the next instant, she was pulled up. She felt as if her bewildered soul remained at the messy table while her body was already being led out of the courtyard and into the night-shrouded wilderness.
"I’m taking you somewhere."
She looked at the back of the person before her, then turned to look behind.
After an unknown amount of time, the person ahead still hadn't stopped, and Ding Weixiang and the others hadn't followed.
"Where are we going?"
He still didn't speak, his silhouette merging with the distant mountains and the starry sky.
Gradually, the lights of the farmhouse vanished, and the sounds of chickens and dogs faded. There was only the glow of the stars and moon and the chirping of insects.
She saw the distant mountains rising together like a folding screen at the horizon. In the wilderness before the mountains stood an ancient pagoda bathed in moonlight.
He finally stopped briefly and turned to look at her.
"To the place where I stayed as a child."
She looked into those eyes and confirmed that their owner was indeed drunk.
She had thought he would become simpler than usual, or perhaps talkative like Bo Lao when the wine hit him, but he had become even more silent.
That cold, restrained body seemed unable to hide his complex and turbulent soul. A darkness hidden deep within his blood spilled out through those pitch-black pupils—dangerous, aggressive, like invisible hands plucking at her every sense.
Then, he took her hand and led her toward the ancient pagoda at the end of the darkness.
The night wind of the wilderness was cold and bit through her clothes, yet for some reason, it suddenly ceased as they approached the pagoda. A familiar, bone-chilling floral fragrance rose, enveloping her.
Xiao Nanhui looked down. She saw heavy, white flower buds drooping low, swaying gently in the windless night. This was a sea of Datura flowers, and she was currently standing in its current.
At the end of the sea of flowers was the stone stupa. Weather-beaten, the outer carvings had already crumbled away, leaving only the bare body of the pagoda, its crevices filled with thick moss.
In the center of the pagoda, facing west, was a dark opening, barely large enough for half a person to squeeze through.
He stepped forward and lightly brushed the stone bricks at the opening. After a dull thud, the stone slab at the entrance slowly sank, revealing a stone door.
He stood in the darkness and reached out his hand to her. The moonlight danced on the Buddha bone relic on his left hand—holy yet eerie, possessing a contradictory allure that drew one in.
She finally took that hand and followed him into the dark, decaying space ahead.
"What exactly is this place?"
Her voice echoed in the darkness, spiraling upward and lingering for a long time.
He still didn't speak. Only his breath, carrying a faint scent of wine, lingered not far before her.
In the next instant, moonlight poured down from a distant small window above, illuminating half a stone platform by their feet. The platform was low, and upon it sat a dust-covered oil lamp. He walked toward it, gazed at it for a long time, then leaned down and blew gently before striking a fire-starter.
The dried, congealed oil melted under the heat, finally lighting a faint glow.
She followed the light and looked around, suddenly freezing.
Narrow, dilapidated stone steps spiraled up the walls of the pagoda toward the small window that revealed half the moon. The river of stars outside moved slowly, like another world beyond reach.
"I feel like... I’ve been here before..."
Yes, she must have been here.
Otherwise, why would everything here feel so familiar? But if she truly had been here, why couldn't she remember when or where she had seen such a scene?
"Do you know why I arranged to meet Weixiang here?"
His voice suddenly rose behind her, very close—so close she didn't dare breathe or speak loudly.
"Wasn't it... wasn't it because of Li Yuanyuan of the Broken Sword Sect?"
"That was part of the reason, of course. But ultimately, it was because of this place."
Vaguely, some deeply hidden memory surged from her mind.
She saw fragmented scenes: a boy of seven or eight, wearing slightly ill-fitting clothes, passing the days and nights amidst scrolls of obscure sutras...
"Others study Buddhism in temples; I studied Buddhism here."
Yes, she had been here in a dream. And she had seen him in that dream.
"From a young age, I had to learn to control my emotions. They never allowed me to touch things like wine that cause one to lose control. But even so, I am human. There are times when I cannot control myself... so they thought of this pagoda."
"So you ran here because you were afraid you’d lose control after drinking?" Her heart hung suspended, whether because of the feelings he was revealing or because of the fate she had dimly perceived. "Then how do you feel now? Will you..."
"Right now, I won't. But as for what comes next, it’s hard to say."
His voice cut off abruptly in the dark, damp air.
Then, a tall, lean body pressed over, pinning her against the rough stone wall.
Time and space seemed to warp and blur in that instant. She fell into a strange state; her thoughts still belonged to her, but her body had entered another frequency.
The aura about him was so cold, yet his temperature was so hot.
Such contradictory sensations should not exist in this world.
Cold and hot, distant and intimate, resisting and longing.
She remembered when she was on duty in Beizhi; she had once discovered a hot spring in the lonely mountains during a night patrol. It was December in Beizhi, and snow was falling. She had soaked in that warm spring, breathing the bone-chilling air while her body was enveloped in warm, lingering heat.
She thought again of the vast sea of Datura flowers outside the pagoda. Those spiraling, blooming flowers were so beautiful, their reaching vines so soft, yet they could drive away all other plants and occupy the entire land. If any living creature passed through, they would use their most passionate fragrance to make them stay, even if what they could give was often only an illusion.
Now, she felt exactly like that.
The starry sky above gradually receded. She could only hear his whispers, only see his brow, only feel his breath.
Xiao Nanhui had never imagined there would be such a day.
A day when her world consisted only of him.
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