"Divine Son of Jun."
Yu Jing pushed open the guest room door.
In the sandalwood-scented room, Jun Wuhui sat cross-legged with his eyes closed, resting his mind.
Even though he was not cultivating, the spiritual energy around him still flew toward him like moths drawn to a flame, turning into specks of starlight that gathered within his body.
The sight left Yu Jing dazed, as though she had returned to twenty years ago, to the day Jun Wuhui comprehended the Dao amid the waterfalls. Mist filled the air, and his white robes billowed without a breeze. Handsome, mysterious, and powerful, he had looked like a young banished immortal stepping out of a mythical painting.
"Patriarch Qiu should still be in the manor, shouldn't he?"
Jun Wuhui did not open his eyes. His indifferent tone seemed to hold her a thousand miles away, instantly extinguishing most of the love welling up in Yu Jing's eyes.
Just as before, this mysterious, powerful man had eyes only for his Immortal Path. He would not even raise his head to spare her another glance.
How could Yu Jing fail to understand? Jun Wuhui was reminding her that she was already another man's wife. Too many words lodged in her throat, and in the end, they became only a single sentence:
"Divine Son, Zhantian and Qingxia are back. It's nearly time for dinner."
Yu Jing's expression was complicated. If she had been a little more resolute back then and had not chosen to marry Qiu Zuo, would things have played out differently today?
Soon, Qiu Qingxia rejected that unrealistic thought with a bitter smile. How could Jun Wuhui's Immortal Path pause for even a moment for her? Securing his promise to visit the hidden waterfall with her again already counted as Jun Wuhui helping her