"Cough!"
A soft cough made no sound in the long night.
But to Jiang Wang's ears, it was like a mountain collapse, deafening and earth-shaking.
His fragile emotions shattered in an instant. When he raised his head again, he was once more that radiant Prodigy.
Holding Ye Qingyu by the shoulder, he turned back and saw Jiang An'an—who had skipped out from around the corner, then abruptly frozen in place with her eyes wide. He had assumed the arrival would be True Person Ye, because that soft cough which had nearly broken through Avalokiteshvara Ear was unmistakably True Person Ye's voice.
Like startled birds, the two sprang apart at once.
Looking rather awkward, Ye Qingyu began straightening her cuffs.
Jiang Wang struck first. "Jiang An'an! Why are you still awake so late? Do you know you won't grow tall if you keep this up? Will you even be able to get up for morning practice tomorrow?"
Clearly stunned by this barrage of three questions, Jiang An'an forgot what she had meant to say. She said pitifully, "But today is the Cloud Dynasty Festival. We still have morning practice tomorrow?"
Jiang Wang was just about to bring out a parent's authority and muddle through with sheer nonsense when he spotted Chunhui, who had somehow chased them all the way here.
The foolish dog he had bought years ago from an ordinary farming family nearly ran its little stubby legs into afterimages the moment it saw him. It shot up to him, spun wildly around his legs, wagging its tail like mad as it jumped and circled.
"An'an." Ye Qingyu had finally finished smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles in her cuff. "Didn't Wang Yueyi say you were sleepy and take you off to rest? Why did you run out again?"
Jiang An'an