Qiao Ranran had seen those same Demon Markings in her previous life.
When Nan Xun saw Qiao Ranran again, the excitement in his eyes was plain. But he held himself back from rushing up to her. He knew she didn't welcome him, and if he pushed too hard, he might only make her dislike him more. That was the last thing he wanted.
Yet even though his bloodline had been repaired, even evolved, Nan Xun still had an inborn defect: he couldn't speak. He had spent the first few years asleep while his body healed itself. After waking, he'd thrown himself into his studies. Then, with Mu Tianyuan's permission, he'd gone down the mountain to gain experience.
Gaining experience was only part of it. More importantly, he had never forgotten what Qiao Ranran had said. Although his master had already paid her for treating him, Nan Xun still felt he owed her. Not just money, but an enormous debt of gratitude—and an explanation.
Words seemed too meager to carry any weight. Besides, he still couldn't speak.
Now that he'd earned a fair amount and knew Qiao Ranran hadn't left the Profound Heart Sect recently, he'd finally gathered the courage to come find her. But the moment he saw her, he could only gaze at her longingly, too nervous to know what to do.
Qiao Ranran tilted her head. She realized she'd been staring at Nan Xun so long that the poor boy had grown flustered and didn't know where to put his hands or feet.
"Junior Brother Nan, did you need something from me?"
With a wave of her hand, Qiao Ranran set a small wooden table and two stools between them. A jade pot and two cups of tea appeared on it. The tea was clear and bright, fragrant