When Chen Xiao arrived at Glazed Grotto-Heaven, Mo Ziqi was sitting on the ground with her knees hugged to her chest, gazing up at the phantom of the Black-Heart Lotus floating above her head.
"Little Seven?"
Seeing Mo Ziqi, Chen Xiao called out tentatively.
Mo Ziqi froze slightly, then a delighted smile spread across her face. She hurriedly rose to her feet and threw herself into Chen Xiao's arms.
"Brother Xiao, you finally came to see me!"
Mo Ziqi lifted her little head from Chen Xiao's embrace, looked at his face, and spoke in a spoiled tone.
Warmth instantly rose in Chen Xiao's heart.
He gently stroked Mo Ziqi's hair and said with a smile, "Little Seven, these past years have been hard on you."
"Not hard, not hard."
Mo Ziqi hurriedly shook her little head, but she could not say another word.
Like Chen Xiao, Mo Ziqi had ten thousand words in her heart but was utterly unable to express them. Neither of them was skilled with words; whatever they thought, they would often put into action.
At that moment, the pair of lovers held each other tightly, without saying a single word.
After a long while, Chen Xiao patted Mo Ziqi's back and said, "Little Seven, that flute is still here, right?"
"It is."
Mo Ziqi nodded. With a light gesture of her hand, the jade-colored flute appeared in her palm.
"I can sense an indestructible divine consciousness within it. If I rashly refine this flute, I'm afraid that consciousness will erase my intelligence."
Mo Ziqi did not conceal anything and truthfully told Chen Xiao.
"You could sense it?"
Chen Xiao was slightly startled. He had only thought of the tomb in Demon Ancestor Land, then connected it to the possibility that Xianyu Qingluo had not truly fallen,