Experiencing the bustle of mortal life and the emotions of all living beings was one of Yi Shuyuan's joys as a storyteller, and an important part of his cultivation.
Even the stirrings of romantic affection he had sensed on the night of the second day of the eighth month had brought Yi Shuyuan gains.
Yi Shuyuan was not staying in Mingzhou City's bustling districts. Instead, he had rented a small house in a more remote spot near the eastern outskirts.
The rent was exceedingly cheap-fifty copper coins a month, practically free. He was only required to help keep the house and courtyard clean.
Even the nearest neighboring house lay several hundred paces away.
As Yi Shuyuan headed home, the fireflies among the weeds beside the path brightened and dimmed as though breathing.
Hui Mian leaped straight down from his shoulder and darted into the grass, romping about and chasing things.
Countless startled fireflies took wing. As Yi Shuyuan passed, their lights rose into the air like so many lanterns welcoming him home.
Yi Shuyuan was savoring what he had sensed on Lotus Wind Bridge when the sight of fireflies filling the sky brought a faint smile to his lips.
Then the folding fan slipped from his sleeve into Yi Shuyuan's hand.
With a flick, Yi Shuyuan opened the fan and waved it gently. The surrounding grass rippled like waves, sending countless more specks of firefly light into the air.
Yi Shuyuan stepped through the air, stirring a gentle breeze.
The folding fan in Yi Shuyuan's hand seemed to become a thread guiding the wind. As his long sleeves swept about, it directed the currents of air and drew along the fireflies filling the sky.
At that moment, Yi Shuyuan's eyes were half closed, a melody quietly taking shape in his