During his days of recuperation, he gritted his teeth and refused to speak.
The curtains always hung from their silver hooks. Except when she brought him medicine, the two of them always kept their distance.
That distance existed not only in this room. It was far more than the five and a half steps between the bed and the tea table.
Another night came. Jiang Wang had no idea which one it was, since he didn't know how long he'd been unconscious and had no way to communicate with anyone else.
Counting from the day he woke, he'd been drinking medicine for a full five days.
As she had every day before, Miao Yu pushed open the door in the dead of night. She still wore her blue-gray monk's robes, her long hair tucked beneath a monk's cap and her face hidden behind the Bodhi Mask.
Just from the sound of her footsteps, Jiang Wang could more or less picture her.
Never in his life had he been so helpless for so long. Every day, he could only lie stiffly in bed, slowly circulating his Dao Essence to nourish his body in silence and waiting for it to recover.
He couldn't cultivate or spare the strength to explore his Inner Palace. Even studying Daoist Arts in his mind took too much energy if he dwelled on them. After thinking for a while, he had to rest for a while.
Besides that, all he could do was listen to her footsteps as they retreated, then drew near again.
In a way, this was probably the longest period of "rest" he'd ever had. He had never slacked off in his cultivation, no matter the circumstances. But now, with his body in this state, he could only circulate Dao Essence and ponder Daoist