From beginning to end, Ye Qinghong had remained dazed, simply nestled in his arms.
His dark hair hung loose, his face blank in profile.
His cool eyes held bewilderment, attachment, and helpless confusion over the hatred of the past.
In short, he felt nothing at all about what had happened to Li Mochou.
That shouldn't be right!
His First Disciple was cold by nature, yet loved him so fiercely. In that respect, he ought to have something in common with Li Mochou.
Why was he reacting like this?
Fang Yang puzzled over it to no avail. After finishing Li Mochou's story, he frowned and asked.
"My disciple, what have you learned?"
Ye Qinghong abruptly snapped out of his daze and raised his head. Only then did he notice that he was already lying in his master's broad arms.
Moreover, his head was buried against his master's chest.
His soaking-wet body pressed close against his master.
The two of them were practically melded together.
Had this been when he was little, it would naturally have been harmless, but the problem was that he was no longer that innocent, ignorant little girl.
Continuing like this would be rather shameless.
But...
Why did he still feel a faint joy and attachment?
He shook his head, abruptly slipped out of his master's embrace, and stood to one side with his head lowered and his sword in hand!
He had returned to being that aloof swordsman.
But his white knuckles and tightly bitten lip proved that he was not as calm inside as he appeared.
"This disciple has learned nothing."
He spoke expressionlessly.
Fang Yang grew even more puzzled.
"Nothing?"
"Don't you think you should be wary of falling in love, to avoid encountering someone morally corrupt?"
"..."
Ye Qinghong said nothing, merely shaking his