“Alright, it should be fine now. Let’s head to the market town.”
In the small hut, Ji Wangshu looked at Mu Zhiming before him. The sword scars from a few days ago had already scabbed over after he applied the medicine, and aside from being unsightly, there was no real issue, so he spoke up.
He watched Mu Zhiming before him, her white silk robe slipped down to her waist, the peaks of her figure faintly visible, revealing a hint of snowy white; her lower half was clad only in silk pants, accentuating her delicate, slender legs and peach buttocks, dreamlike and ethereal.
A Mu Zhiming like this, in front of him, was no different from being half-naked.
Ji Wangshu rubbed his nose, thinking that this blockhead really was getting more and more casual around him, not treating him like an outsider at all.
Looks like his role as the childhood friend was getting more and more convincing.
He stepped out on his own, waiting for Mu Zhiming to change, then they would head to the market town together, strolling through the Flower Festival.
Plum blossoms still drifted outside the door, and though the air remained biting cold, it carried a hint of early spring. The faint fragrance of the flower garden drifted to his nose.
He crouched down and began watering the flower garden beside Mu Zhiming’s small hut.
Lately, Mu Zhiming had gradually lost her sight, so watering the flowers was something he did. Sometimes, when the blockhead got too busy preparing for the Sect Grand Competition and forgot, he would come and water them on his own.
But compared to Mu Zhiming’s meticulous scheduling, Ji Wangshu was far more careless.
He watered whenever he remembered, casually poked at the soil when turning it, and pruned branches purely by feel.
Yet despite such half-hearted care, the flower garden under his charge flourished even more vigorously than when Mu Zhiming tended it, which made her exclaim in wonder time and again.
Could it be that he really had a talent for this?
Thinking so, Ji Wangshu spread his spiritual energy into the flower garden, and instantly the refreshing fragrance grew even richer.
He stood up, hands on his hips, leaning back with a smug expression.
…………
“D-Don’t walk so fast, blockhead.”
Ji Wangshu tugged at the sleeve of Mu Zhiming ahead of him, his body instinctively leaning forward.
By nature, he was a homebody, rarely going down the mountain, and the scene before him now made him nervous, his social anxiety kicking in.
Ji Wangshu looked at the sky above, where a few sparse clouds like grey dogs were tinged with the rising sun, making the azure sky seem unusually vast and empty.
He then lowered his head to glance at the ground, where large patches of shadow stretched from the end of the road all the way to where he stood, blocking the sun’s afterglow.
“Hey, fellow cultivator, if you’re not walking, don’t block the way in the middle of the road.”
A crisp voice came from behind him.
Ji Wangshu turned around, froze, rubbed his eyes, and looked closely:
The sea of people split into two columns on their own, like the ocean being parted by a sword intent, revealing the azure sky and pure white cloud sea.
From within the cloud sea, twelve women slowly walked out from the end, their steps light and brisk. Pedestrians on both sides of the road turned their heads, stunned, lowered their gazes, and murmured.
Their whispers were careful and hushed, as if afraid to disturb immortals descending from the heavens.
Because those twelve women were all clad in various colored light silks, each a single shade from head to toe, utterly graceful, with twelve flower hairpins delicately placed atop their heads.
Twelve colors, twelve flower hairpins, perfectly corresponding to the twelve flower goddesses of the Flower Festival.
Like twelve celestial maidens truly descending from some fairyland, they stole countless colors from the world.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Suddenly, Mu Zhiming, whose sleeve he was holding, spoke up.
“Extremely beautiful.” Ji Wangshu replied, a flicker of light passing through his eyes.
He recalled that when his master was still at the Yixiu Sect, she also loved planting flowers all over the back mountain, and every season would bring seas of blossoms in every color.
He was someone who preferred stillness over motion, but he was always dragged along by his master and little junior sister. To him, it was just sleeping somewhere else, and he would doze off before long.
When he woke up again, he would find something stepping on his face. Lifting his gaze, he’d see his master and junior sister had slipped off their embroidered shoes, their toes covered in petals, pressing down on his face.
Such days seemed absurd at the time, but now they were nothing but beautiful memories.
After his master left, he had neglected that flower sea, and his junior sister was busy with sect affairs, so within a few years, it fell to ruin.
Junior sister… she should be back by now…
Ji Wangshu couldn’t help but worry about her again, wondering if she had truly been taken by the Qingyun Sect. If that were really the case…
His fingers gripping Mu Zhiming’s sleeve tightened slightly, and his eyes narrowed.
Mu Zhiming sensed the force transmitted through her sleeve, and even her breathing, which had been taking in the flower fragrance, paused. She tilted her head, her black eye veil fixed on him.
Is he… reminiscing?
Though Mu Zhiming couldn’t see, sensing his short, rapid breaths, the fluctuating spiritual energy in his body, and the faint floral scent he gave off, she too was taken aback.
Yes, back then, in the mountain village, she had promised him they would go to the Flower Festival together one day…
She had forgotten, but he still remembered it…
No wonder he was so sad right now…
If she still had her sight, to be able to walk with him through the Flower Festival, how wonderful would that be…
At that thought, even Mu Zhiming’s gray-white eyes softened. She reached out, instinctively wrapping an arm around Ji Wangshu’s shoulder. Seeing that he didn’t resist, she drew him into her embrace and murmured softly:
“It’s okay… it’s okay…”
On the path, the crowd kept moving forward, and warm wind carrying flower fragrance swept past, lifting the hems of both their robes.
A few breaths later, Ji Wangshu snapped back to reality, utterly confused.
Why was Mu Zhiming acting as if she had remembered something again? He hadn’t said anything at all.
He felt like this girl’s self-strategy was getting stronger and stronger.
He instinctively pulled free from Mu Zhiming’s embrace, her maidenly fragrance clinging to him, his cheeks flushing red. He continued holding her sleeve, and the two of them kept strolling forward.
Before long, they arrived at a wide avenue. The view suddenly opened up, and the surrounding crowd gradually dispersed.
“Huh?”
Ji Wangshu stared at the familiar profile in the crowd and suddenly spoke up.
“…What’s wrong?” Mu Zhiming ahead paused her steps slightly, lowering her head to whisper by his ear.
“Do senior sisters usually come to the Flower Festival?”
Ji Wangshu, not caring how close Mu Zhiming’s breathing was, so near that her breath almost brushed his neck, quickly asked.
“Not often… everyone at the sect focuses on sword practice and doesn’t really care for flowers and plants…”
As Mu Zhiming said this, she moved even closer, her voice as faint as a mosquito’s buzz, breathing against Ji Wangshu’s ear.
Ji Wangshu’s earlobes instantly grew hot, his face flushing crimson. He couldn’t bring himself to push her away, fearing the crowd might swallow Mu Zhiming up.
“Then why is she here too?”
Ji Wangshu looked ahead again, spotting several cultivators in various colored dao robes walking through the crowd ahead, as if they had arrived some time ago.
They were still a distance away, so he couldn’t make out their faces, only their silhouettes.
The woman had a delicate, clear-featured face, jade-like skin, and a tall, straight posture, standing out like a crane among chickens, yet still acting like a curious baby, occasionally joking and chatting with those around her.
“Chen Miao?!”
Ji Wangshu stood on his tiptoes and shouted loudly.
The graceful figure ahead was suddenly called to a halt. She turned around, her gaze cutting through the crowd, and upon seeing Ji Wangshu and Mu Zhiming clinging closely to his side, her face showed surprise as well.