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Moreover, after getting pregnant, Song Zhizhi felt she needed to sleep at least twelve hours a day. Asking her to get up at five in the morning was probably impossible.

However, for certain selfish reasons and considerations, Song Zhizhi did not want Xie Xiuji to know about the latter reason for the time being.

She looked up at Xie Xiuji, her lovely willow-leaf brows knitting in distress. Her soft voice sounded a little like she was acting coquettishly, yet also like she was complaining. "Could it be a little later? I want to sleep a bit more. Not getting enough sleep will keep me from growing taller..."

Sword Venerable Mingxiao lowered his eyes and stared at Song Zhizhi's fair face. Her cheeks still bore the flush from exercising, while her bright features retained a trace of childishness.

He was dazed for a moment before abruptly remembering that the girl before him had only just turned eighteen. She truly was still a child in her growing years.

Sword Venerable Mingxiao looked away. A faint ripple passed through his cold eyes before they swiftly returned to calm. He turned his back to Song Zhizhi and said, seemingly indulgent yet also helpless, "I will come again tomorrow at the hour of the Dragon."

The hour of the Dragon was seven in the morning. She could sleep two more hours, then take a nap at noon, and that would be enough sleep for the day. Song Zhizhi nodded in satisfaction. "Alright!"

Having successfully bargained with Xie Xiuji, Song Zhizhi closed her eyes again and meditated to absorb spiritual energy. Xie Xiuji did not leave, instead remaining nearby to guard her—though there was no danger on Clear Snow Peak, what if there was? Right?

An hour later, the sky had already darkened. Only then did Song Zhizhi's spiritual power return to its peak. Xie Xiuji had been right: cultivating after exhausting her spiritual power made her cultivation speed a little faster than usual.

It was too dark around her, so she failed to notice someone keeping watch beneath a tree not far away. She rose and stretched her limbs, then rolled up her sleeves, exposing the streaks of red marks on her arms—all from being lashed by branches while practicing with Xie Xiuji.

Xie Xiuji had not used much force. Her skin was simply too delicate; even a little force left it red and swollen, making the injuries look more serious than they were. They would heal in a few days.

Song Zhizhi touched the wounds, hissing in pain. Then she walked into the small building, her muttered curses drifting from inside. "That damn man, Xie Xiuji, doesn't know how to treat women gently. One day, I'll whip him back!"

After cursing him out, Song Zhizhi looked at the grass blades, dirt, and sweat staining her clothes. She felt sticky all over. Even after casting the Cleansing Spell, she still psychologically felt as though she had not bathed.

But there was nowhere to bathe in the room, nor was there a bathing tub. In the end, Song Zhizhi could only fetch a basin of water, heat it with fire spiritual energy, and give herself a simple wipe-down. Then she cast the Cleansing Spell several more times, changed into a comfortable set of sleepwear, and prepared to sleep.

"Once I have the time, I definitely need to buy a bathing tub to soak in. Taking a bath after cultivation is exhausting would be heavenly. Mm, I should get a footbath too."

Knock, knock, knock. Someone knocked on the courtyard gate of her small building. Her senior brother on Clear Snow Peak, whom she had never met, was in seclusion, and her master had gone out. At this hour, there seemed to be only one person who would knock.

Song Zhizhi climbed out of bed and opened the door, but saw no one. Instead, she found a familiar food box on the ground before the door, with a palm-sized porcelain bottle beside it.

Song Zhizhi looked around, but did not spot Xie Xiuji.

There was also a sheet of paper beneath the porcelain bottle, bearing several lines of vigorous, powerful handwriting. Its general meaning was that the bottle contained Spirit Dew for treating external injuries. All she needed to do was apply it to the wounds, and they would heal by the next day without leaving scars.

They said one's handwriting was like the person. Xie Xiuji's handwriting was indeed as beautiful as he was, utterly flawless.

"Looks like you do have a conscience." Song Zhizhi muttered. Then she carried away the food box and tucked the porcelain bottle into her robes, the corners of her lips lifting almost imperceptibly.

The food box contained steaming-hot dishes, still three dishes and a soup. They differed slightly from lunch, but were just as complete in color, fragrance, and flavor. Perhaps the food box kept heat exceptionally well, because the dishes were still steaming as though they had just come out of the pot. Song Zhizhi happily ate three large bowls.

"Once I take a mission outside the sect, I have to ask Xie Xiuji where this restaurant is. The chef here suits my tastes perfectly."

After Song Zhizhi finished eating and cleaned up the tableware, she took out the porcelain bottle again and used a clean cotton cloth to dab some Spirit Dew onto the red marks on her body.

Most of the red marks were on her arms, followed by her shoulders and back. Fortunately, this body was quite flexible, so Song Zhizhi could apply medicine to her back by herself.

When the Spirit Dew touched her skin, it brought a faintly cool sensation. Song Zhizhi watched as the swollen redness faded at a visible speed. Before long, only faint pink marks remained. By tomorrow, there would definitely not be a trace left.

After applying the medicine, Song Zhizhi smelled the faint fragrance of the Spirit Dew on her body and quickly drifted off to sleep.

Song Zhizhi did not notice that while she slept soundly, the fire spiritual energy within a radius of three li slowly gathered at her side, then surged into her lower abdomen in a mad scramble.

In her dream, Song Zhizhi seemed to hear a tiny burp. But she was too sleepy to open her eyes and assumed she was dreaming.

Because she remembered that she had proper business to attend to, Song Zhizhi opened her eyes on time at the hour of the Dragon the next day. She rubbed against the soft Cloud Quilt, then reluctantly climbed out of bed. After washing up, she opened the door of the small building.

The sound of a sword dance came from not far away. Song Zhizhi followed the sound and saw a tall, straight figure on the grass in the distance. He held an exceptionally beautiful snow-colored longsword. As he sprang up with the sword, his body moved like a roaming dragon and his blade flashed like a startled swan. Point, cleave, lift, thrust—the cold-glinting sword seemed to come alive in his hand, becoming one with him. He was the sword, and the sword was him. Every swing, every movement, appeared casual, yet each strike concealed infinite transformations.

This was—the Heavenly Profound Sword Art?

His sword moves were the same as the Heavenly Profound Sword Art, yet different from the Heavenly Profound Sword Art Song Zhizhi had seen in the Heart-Trial Stone. It was as though he had woven his own personal style into it.

Song Zhizhi stared in a daze. Something suddenly flashed through her mind, and she seemed to gain an insight.

When the sword dance ended, Sword Venerable Mingxiao sheathed his sword and turned to look at Song Zhizhi. His gaze was quiet and cold, like snow that never melted atop a mountain. Sunlight fell into his eyes, turning his pupils a pale gold, as if revealing a trace of warmth—then it vanished in an instant, as though that flicker of warmth had merely been an illusion.

Rankings

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Transmigrated into a Book

Sweet Romance

Time Travel Rebirth Romance

Tu Yanyan

Amnesia Trope