The Last Group of Old Friends

Night, in the mountains.

A pile of bonfire served as a speck of starlight amid the great mountains. The hills were filled with the chirping of insects and the crackling of the fire. Every so often, fireflies drifted out from the woods and flew past the Daoist.

Song You sat cross-legged facing the fire, yet he was not cultivating. In fact, it had been a long time since he had cultivated. He merely turned slightly and tilted his head to look at little Jiang Han, who was sitting haphazardly beside him, then raised a hand to point at the sky.

"Stars."

"Stars~"

Little Jiang Han looked up after him, her eyes sparkling.

"Those bright, shining things in the sky are called stars."

"They're called stars!"

"What was that thing in the sky a few days ago called?" Song You tested her. "That big, bright one."

"It was... it was... the moon!"

"That's right. Very smart."

Unlike Three Flower Lady, who would hand her a roasted cicada or a charred locust whenever she answered correctly, Song You simply patted her head. Her hair had grown much fuller now, and the top of her head was warm beneath his hand. Then he continued gently, "What time is it now?"

"Ah..."

"Hm? What time?"

"Three Flower Lady~"

Little Jiang Han could not help looking wildly from side to side.

"It's nighttime," Song You prompted.

"Nighttime~"

"Very smart."

Song You smiled.

This was not merely a trick of phrasing or empty praise.

Little Jiang Han was probably a year old now—perhaps a year and a month or two. Children from ordinary families could generally talk by that age, but few could truly process problems. As for her, when she had drifted down the river half a year ago, she could not even speak.

"Look