He Xiangu stood ten paces away.
A fly whisk rested in the crook of her arm, and her gray-white Daoist robe swayed gently in the wind.
She watched Wangchuan, her gaze as calm as a deep pool, without the slightest ripple.
That calm made Wangchuan uncomfortable.
He had seen far too many people's eyes.
Those eyes all held something: emotions, desires, the warmth of living things.
He Xiangu's eyes held nothing.
They were so clean it was as though nothing had ever tainted them.
He Xiangu was watching him too.
Her gaze traveled from Wangchuan's long silver-gray hair to his black robe, from the wind at its hem to the faintly spinning Moon Wheel beneath his feet, before settling on his face.
"Long time no see, Tso Lan."
She merely tilted her head slightly and studied him for a good while before giving a soft chuckle.
"But I never expected that one day I'd see a... human you."
She paused, her gaze lingering on his face, so utterly different from before.
"The Moon Demon, standing before me in a body like this. What, did spending so long in Hell change your taste too?"
The corner of Wangchuan's mouth twitched.
"Likewise. I never expected the great He Xiangu, one of the Eight Immortals, to come to a place like this alone to wait for me."
"What about the other seven old geezers? Have they retired?"
He Xiangu did not answer him.
She merely brushed the lotus beside her palm, and its petals trembled slightly, as though touched by the wind.
She paid him no mind at all.
That irritated Wangchuan even more. These people always acted so high and mighty.
"You haven't changed. You talk about compassion, but your eyes are full of condescension."
He took a step forward, the Moon