Page 25

A large, bony hand gripped the young girl's arm, barely stopping her from pitching forward. A faint scent of sandalwood lingered at the tip of her nose, and Ning Ning heard the young man's voice, cool and clear as snowmelt.

"Fellow Daoist, your footing is unsteady. It must be that your internal heat has flared up, damaging the meridians in your limbs. You must not move about carelessly."

He paused, coughing lightly a few times, a sickly, pale pink flush rising to his pallid cheeks. "Otherwise, your meridians may shatter, and I fear your limbs will suffer grave injury."

Internal heat flaring up? Meridians shattering? Ning Ning was so startled by his bluff that she almost truly believed she had run into a streak of terrible luck.

But upon second thought, something felt wrong.

As a cultivator, could she really collapse into such a state just from smelling a poisonous flower and standing still for a while? If that were the case, she shouldn't be a Sword Cultivator; she'd be better off starring in a Barbie princess movie.

Half-doubting, Ning Ning moved her toes cautiously, her heart thumping wildly against her ribs. Her cold body temperature gradually warmed, and as spiritual energy flowed back in, the uncomfortable tingling sensation finally dissipated completely.

Damn it.

It really was just her foot falling asleep.

"Meridians shattering," "internal heat flaring up"—if you stood perfectly still for that long, anyone's legs would go numb. She had almost been swindled into believing him by this charlatan, that wretched Sword Cultivator!

"As expected of the Jiangxing Elder."

Determined that he was teasing her, Ning Ning unleashed the specialty of a vicious female supporting character, retorting with biting sarcasm: "Your insight is truly unparalleled in this world."

Wen Hemian paused for a moment.

Immediately after, a faint, thin red flush actually crept up his earlobes. He pressed his lips together, looking somewhat constrained, and replied in a low voice: "I am but a cripple... I do not deserve such praise."

Ning Ning: ...

What are you doing, Wen Hemian! It was such obvious sarcasm—how could you not see it? You should at least get angry!

The peerless Jiangxing Elder lowered his eyes, then spoke in a cold, slightly hesitant tone: "I saw you weeping at the sound of my zither, though I do not know the reason why. Although my abilities are meager, perhaps I can be of some help."

Ning Ning slowly conjured another question mark in her mind.

She didn't know if it was the man before her who was wrong, or if she herself was abnormal, but whenever she was with him, she felt like she was turning into a heartless question-mark machine.

Had this man won an Oscar grand slam in his past life? He had clearly been playing his zither with such gusto when he saw her crying, yet now he had the audacity to play the good guy and ask her why she was weeping? Could he truly not know—

Wait.

Perhaps Wen Hemian really didn't know why she was crying.

The valley was filled with mist, and the two of them had been separated by some distance; the rocks were covered by weeds, making it difficult for others to notice them. When she spoke earlier, she could only use lip-reading, and because she was exhausted, her lip-reading was highly imprecise. It was only natural that he hadn't understood.

Plus, there was what he had just said about her "weeping at the sound of the zither"...

The self-loathing and melancholy hidden within Wen Hemian's zither music were buried very deep. To anyone else listening, it would only sound leisurely, long-drawn, free, and easy.

This person couldn't possibly think that she had understood the deeper meaning behind the melody and was moved to tears by it, could he?

This, this, this—how could that be! If that were the case, wouldn't they be like "soulmates sharing a thousand cups of wine," leading to "warm curtains and a spring night"—

Pah!

In short, understanding the intent of the melody and weeping in empathy was absolutely not a plot point that a vicious female supporting character should have.

The system in her head sent the instruction: [Please complete the task as soon as possible.] Ning Ning steeled her heart, wrenched her hand away from Wen Hemian's palm, and said, "I'm not sad because of the song you played. I—I hate this kind of miserable, pathetic music the most! I don't want to hear it ever again!"

As she spoke, she gritted her teeth, picked up the stone that had been kicked to the side, and smashed it hard against the guqin, just as she was supposed to in the original story.

"I don't like it, and you aren't allowed to play it anymore!"

Because she wasn't used to saying cruel things to others, Ning Ning's face felt like it was burning. She used every ounce of her courage to finally blurt out the line from the original story in one breath: "A dignified Sword Immortal, yet you are content to shrink away in this place, reduced to a completely useless waste. I see that for the rest of your life, you will only be fit to keep company with this broken zither!"

Ah, just kill her now.

These words were far too harsh.

Ning Ning quietly took a breath. Even though these words weren't directed at her, as the person saying them, she almost felt guilty enough to cry.

The strings snapped with a hum, and the Golden Phoebe Wood shattered.

The jarring sound of the zither cut through the silence of the valley like a sharp blade, startling a flock of birds into flight. The thin mist seemed to be sliced open as well; amidst the white smoke that flickered and gathered, Wen Hemian saw the little girl's flushed cheeks.

And her equally reddened eyes.

It was as if she were about to cry.

She... didn't like this kind of sorrowful music.

And she didn't want him to play it anymore.

Ever since he lost his cultivation, the elders of the sect had all come to see him, every one of them hesitant to speak, comforting him and telling him not to mind it, to just focus on his recovery.

Only this little girl had told him bluntly not to play such sad music anymore.

Otherwise, he would only be fit to be trapped here, spending his life accompanied by the sound of a mournful zither.

She was truly foolish.

Even if she smashed this zither, there was no way to make him walk out of this.

He... was already beyond saving.

A cripple who had lost all his cultivation had no future to hope for.

Wen Hemian was not good at communicating with others, nor did he know how to comfort the girl before him who had reddened her eyes because of him. He hesitated, just about to speak, when he heard Ning Ning's panicked voice: "I'm leaving!"

As she spoke, she didn't forget to add, "I hate you, and I hate your music too. I'm crying because... because I dropped a rock on my foot!"

She came suddenly and left just as quickly. The young girl's figure was incredibly light; in the blink of an eye, she had vanished without a trace, leaving behind only a gentle breeze.

The young man in white stood alone before the damaged guqin. His long, drooping eyelashes cast a shadow over his pupils, and a faint, bitter smile flickered across his face.

Dropped a rock on her foot.

To think she could come up with such a clumsy excuse.

Ning Ning could not sleep.