Although Ji Yue kept reassuring her again and again that her eyes would heal on their own, after being blind for so long, Nan Shan was still quite depressed.
She didn’t even like the dried red dates Shou Xin had laid out to sun, didn’t want to go bask in the courtyard sunshine either—she just lay in bed all day, uninterested in everything.
“Nan Shan, the vegetable patch in the corner needs watering. Come help me, will you?”
Shou Xin invited enthusiastically.
Nan Shan turned over.
“No.”
“Come on, come on. You’re not doing anything anyway. Might as well be useful,” Shou Xin tried to coax her, still unwilling to give up.
Nan Shan said gloomily, “I’m blind. What can I even do?”
“Pfft, who says you can’t do anything? You can help me hold the water bucket,” Shou Xin replied.
Nan Shan didn’t even bother responding this time and just pulled the quilt over her head.
Shou Xin sighed and had no choice but to quietly close the door behind her.
Then she turned and looked at Ji Yue, who stood nearby in a light blue robe.
“She’s been like this for a while now. Won’t eat, won’t get out of bed. Last time I even saw her hiding under the quilt crying quietly,” Shou Xin said with a helpless shrug, her youthful face wearing an expression that could only be described as “worry.”
“But I don’t know how to comfort her… so I just pretended I didn’t see.”
Ji Yue lifted his gaze to the tightly shut door.
“Forget it, I’ll go experiment with a few pastries. She likes sweets—maybe they’ll lift her mood a little,” he said.
Then, for the first time ignoring Shou Xin completely, the celestial lord Ji Yue headed straight for the kitchen.
***
In the quiet of the main bedroom, Nan Shan lifted the blanket.
She lay on the bed, eyes lifeless.
Time on Dongyi Island was vague to begin with, and now that she was blind, she had no sense of day or night.
Although Shou Xin said it hadn’t been long since she lost her sight, Nan Shan felt like it had already been eighty years.
And her eyes still hadn’t shown any signs of recovery—it felt like she could stay blind for another eighty years.
“If I had known I’d end up blind, I wouldn’t have cultivated. I’d rather be dead…”
Nan Shan rolled around in bed, pretending to cry, but her eyes actually became wet.
She missed her mother.
Truthfully, she’d been so busy cultivating that she hadn’t thought of her mother in a long time.
But now, suddenly blinded and with all this time on her hands, she started thinking constantly of her parents, of her immortal father and Ling Ye.
Occasionally, she even thought of that annoying Xi Yuan.
Xi Yuan… if it weren’t for that bastard, she wouldn’t have been captured and brought to Dongyi Island.
Nan Shan clenched her teeth in anger, then let out a sigh.
There was no point blaming the heavens or others.
If she hadn’t come to Dongyi Island, she wouldn’t have learned that she was missing a spiritual bone.
She might still be thinking she could do nothing and just rely on Ling Ye to keep nourishing it for her.
She’d probably drain Ling Ye dry.
That mental image made Nan Shan shudder.
After letting her thoughts wander, Nan Shan felt a bit better.
She groped her way out of bed and slowly made her way toward the table.
She couldn’t see, so she had to use both hands and feet to carefully feel her way forward.
But even so, she still kicked the leg of a chair with her right foot, and it hurt so bad that tears came to her eyes.
When Ji Yue walked in, he saw her crouched on the floor tearfully, looking utterly pitiful.
He was silent for a moment before stepping forward.
Nan Shan heard the footsteps, lifted her head, and reached out—sure enough, her hand caught on the soft fabric of his robes.
“Shou Xin?”
Her lifeless eyes turned toward the sound.
She had already learned to listen closely for cues.
“Didn’t I say I wasn’t going outside? Why are you back again…”
“It’s me,” Ji Yue said gently.
Nan Shan immediately fell silent.
The room was so quiet that even the soft rustle of Ji Yue’s robe brushing the floor as he squatted down could be heard. Nan Shan bit her lip and reached out to brace herself against his knee.
“What are you doing squatting here?”
Ji Yue asked.
“I stubbed my foot,” Nan Shan replied with a slight tug at the corner of her mouth.
“Let me take a look.”
Ji Yue reached for her ankle.
Nan Shan simply sat on the floor and let him remove her shoes and socks with his warm fingers.
Her toes were exposed to the air.
Though she couldn’t see, she instinctively shrank back.
But Ji Yue was holding her ankle, and she couldn’t get away.
“It’s red,” he said.
Nan Shan grumbled in response.
A moment later, she felt a cool surge of spiritual energy enter the injury.
She drew in a sharp breath and suddenly realized how close Ji Yue was—close enough that their breaths mingled and warmed the air.
Ji Yue seemed to notice it too.
The stream of spiritual energy halted briefly, but then resumed as normal.
It wasn’t even a serious injury—barely even a minor one. Nan Shan had long stopped feeling pain, and now with Ji Yue treating it like something major, there wasn’t even a trace of it left.
When she realized Ji Yue was about to help her put her socks back on, Nan Shan hurriedly snatched them away.
“I’ll do it myself!”
Ji Yue didn’t insist. He just sat quietly by her side.
When she was nearly finished, he said, “If you’re free, come somewhere with me.”
“I’m not going to the front hall,” Nan Shan refused.
“The incense there gives me a headache.”
Ji Yue chuckled.
“Not there.”
Nan Shan paused—curious despite herself.
***
Moments later, she landed on soft sand.
The damp, warm sea breeze made her robe flutter.
From afar came the clear, sharp sound of waves crashing on shore, mixed with the calls of seabirds.
Though she couldn’t see, Nan Shan’s mood suddenly lifted. She stretched lazily, flailing in the air until her hand found Ji Yue’s offered arm, and only then did she feel grounded again.
“Why did you bring me to the beach?”
She asked curiously.
Ji Yue looked at the finally relaxed expression on her face and smiled.
“To clear your mind.”
“…My mind’s perfectly fine. No need to clear it,” Nan Shan said, though even she didn’t believe herself.
Ji Yue didn’t call her out on it. Instead, he gently said, “Keep me company, then. Listening to the constant prayers of believers all day is exhausting.”
“You get annoyed? I thought you enjoyed being adored by the masses,” Nan Shan teased as she clung to his arm, letting him guide her along the shore.
The sand on Dongyi Island was white and fine—soft and delicate.
Walking on it felt like stepping on cotton. With her blindness and the shifting terrain, Nan Shan dared not be careless.
She focused all her attention on her footing, and before she knew it, Ji Yue had brought her right to the edge of the sea.
“My shoes and socks are wet,” she said.
Ji Yue replied, “It’s fine. I’ll dry them for you when we go back.”
Just as they spoke, a wave rolled in and drenched her shoes and socks completely, even soaking the hem of her robe.
Nan Shan let go of Ji Yue’s arm, crouched down, and placed her hands on the cold, wet sand.
She waited.
Sure enough, the next wave came and swept the sand from between her fingers like flowing water.
She smiled, content.
“This is my first time playing at the beach.”
“You’ve never been before?”
Ji Yue crouched beside her, mimicking her by placing his hand on the sand—not that Nan Shan could see.
Hearing his question, Nan Shan shook her head.
“I’d never seen the sea before. Even after coming to Dongyi, I rarely visited the beach. The few times I did… were just to escape. I never had the heart to play.”
…But there was no need to mention that part.
Ji Yue clearly recalled her escape attempts as well.
He gave a quiet laugh, then gently took her hand and pulled her up.
“Come on. Let’s go wade in the water.”
“Wade?!”
Nan Shan’s sightless eyes widened.
“What if I fall into the ocean?!”
“It won’t,” Ji Yue said as he pulled her toward the sea.
“It’s not deep here. Just hold on to me.”
Nan Shan clearly felt the seawater reach over her ankles, and her heartbeat instantly quickened—her lips even began to feel dry.
She couldn’t see, and she didn’t dare use her spiritual power recklessly.
In this vast world, the only thing she could rely on was the man beside her.
But this man kept pulling her toward deeper waters.
If he exerted even a bit of force, he could push her into the sea, and she’d be lost forever.
She couldn’t help but stop.
“I’m still scared,” Nan Shan said softly.
Ji Yue didn’t push her any further and stopped with her right there.
A sudden gust of sea wind picked up, and wave after wave crashed ashore.
Nan Shan gripped Ji Yue’s hand tightly, her heart thudding as she listened to the sounds around her.
“Lift your foot.”
Ji Yue’s voice came from beside her, and Nan Shan instinctively followed the instruction.
“Stomp!”
She stomped down hard, and the wave exploded into splashes, making a crisp sound.
Nan Shan gave a surprised little noise, then tried it again.
But the sound wasn’t as clear this time.
“You have to wait until the wave is right at your feet, at its highest point—only then will it make a louder sound.”
Ji Yue supported her, waiting for the right moment, then told her to lift her foot again.
Splash!
Nan Shan laughed, the gloom in her expression finally gone.
She played by the sea for quite a while.
When she got tired, she returned to the shore, lazily basking in the sun against a rock.
Ji Yue used a spell to dry her clothes and sat down beside her.
The two of them listened to the sound of the waves for a long time without speaking.
Nan Shan dozed off for a bit, and when she woke up, she felt the soft fabric of Ji Yue’s sleeve and knew he was still there.
“It’s so peaceful here,” she said.
Ji Yue responded with a soft “mm”:
“The water here is too shallow for boats to dock, so the people of Dongyi rarely come.”
“Do you come here often?”
Nan Shan asked.
Ji Yue was quiet for a moment before chuckling lightly.
“I liked it when I was young. It’s been a long time since I’ve come.”
“I wish I could see what it looks like,” Nan Shan sighed.
“Dongyi is surrounded by water on all sides. The scenery all looks the same.”
“People have the same eyes and mouths, but they can still look completely different—how could the scenery be the same?”
Nan Shan leaned lazily against the rock, her eyes lowered.
“Any place the great Immortal Ji Yue likes must be stunningly beautiful.”
Ji Yue didn’t say anything.
After a while, he said, “There are a lot of xiang caique flowers here. Want some?”
“Xiang Caique? What kind of bird is that?” Nan Shan asked curiously.
Ji Yue laughed.
“Not a bird. It’s a flower—tiny blossoms strung together in long clusters.”
“Sounds pretty. Can you take me to see them?”
Nan Shan said, trying to get up.
Ji Yue gently pressed her back down onto the sand.
“Wait here. I’ll pick some for you.”
With that, he walked off alone.
Nan Shan was left sitting on the beach, eyes in total darkness, and for a moment she felt a wave of unease.
But just as that unease began to grow, she heard Ji Yue’s voice nearby:
“Don’t be afraid. I’m right here.”
Nan Shan smiled and waved in the direction his voice came from.