At the Immortal Sect, beneath the Plum Blossom Tree in the Courtyard.
“Whoosh, whoosh.”
The Wooden Sword in Mu Zhiming’s hand danced through the air, tracing one arc after another.
Several incense sticks later, she slightly raised her elbow and rubbed the fine beads of sweat from her forehead with her fair forearm, which had slipped out from her robe.
She lowered the Wooden Sword and looked up at the sky.
It had been five months since she lost her eyesight.
Originally, scenes, colors, and the outlines of people could still be reflected in her gray-white pupils, but now only blurry shadows remained.
Even when she looked directly at the sun, she no longer felt any glare.
At this moment, the round setting sun was merely a patch of orange-yellow in her eyes that required great effort to see clearly.
“It’s so late… and he still hasn’t come back?”
Mu Zhiming’s willow brows furrowed slightly.
She fumbled for the water jug beside her, her nostrils subtly flaring as she smelled the faint floral fragrance, then walked toward the Flower Garden.
“Splish, splish.”
She watered the flowers by relying on her senses.
Before long, a wave of icy coldness spread across her calf.
She immediately stopped and raised the hem of her skirt with her delicate hand, revealing the smooth, fair section of her calf between her knee and hip.
If Ji Wangshu were here, he would surely have been ecstatic inwardly, ‘Oh my god, it’s the Absolute Domain.’
Mu Zhiming touched it with her hand.
It was cold and cool, leaving behind a damp, slippery trail of water.
She remained silent for a moment, then put down the water jug and leaned against the Flower Garden’s railing.
She turned her head toward the entrance of the small courtyard and murmured, “Can’t I even water flowers properly anymore?”
“After becoming Blind… I’m even weaker than I imagined…”
But why had she never noticed this before?
She lowered her head, wrapped both hands around her knees, rested her chin on them, and pondered.
While practicing Sword Practice, reading cultivation manuals, returning with Sword Flight, watering the flowers, taking care of the Flower Garden…
In these ordinary days of cultivation that she had grown accustomed to, there had originally only been her.
But now…
There was someone half a head shorter than her, a young cultivator only at the Qi Refining Stage, carrying a peculiar floral fragrance, fond of sleeping late, fond of eating Osmanthus Cakes that were not too sweet, fond of making her laugh, and who had secretly crashed into her arms while riding the Flying Sword that day, their ten fingers intertwined…
And it was Ji Wangshu, whom she had originally thought would only grow more distant after they had not seen each other for so many years.
Thinking of this, Mu Zhiming tilted her head slightly, and an emotion whose name she did not know welled up in her heart.
Should she hate him?
It seemed she could not…
After all, the version of herself that looked like an iceberg in the eyes of her Senior Sisters was not the person she wanted to become…
It was that man who had turned her into the person she was now.
This version of herself who, after he left, could not even water the Flower Garden properly.
Thinking of this, Mu Zhiming raised her head slightly and looked at the sky again.
Another hour had passed.
Ji Wangshu had gone out to play with Chen Miao, and still had not returned.
Mu Zhiming subconsciously tightened her grip on the water jug.
The hand holding it became misshapen, her eyelids lowered, and the cold air around her grew even thicker.
…
When Ji Wangshu returned to the Immortal Sect, a cold, bright moon had already risen in the sky, illuminating his somewhat weary figure.
He descended from the Flying Sword, said goodbye to Chen Miao, ignored her amused gaze, sighed softly, and walked into the Courtyard.
As soon as he looked up, he saw Mu Zhiming crouching beside the Flower Garden with her back toward him.
The Wooden Sword leaned against the door of the small house, while a water jug sat beside her feet, looking as though it had barely been used.
This scene inexplicably reminded him of when he had first arrived half a year ago.
At that time, Mu Zhiming had also been like this, crouching beside the Flower Garden with her back toward him, except that what had been beside her feet was a medicine jar.
That day, she had walked into his small house and applied ointment to him beneath the moonlight, amid an ambiguous and languid atmosphere.
At that time, their relationship had still been awkward.
After going through so much together, they had now become familiar with each other.
Although they could not be said to be completely intimate, at least he no longer had to worry every day about his fake Childhood Sweetheart identity being discovered.
Ji Wangshu composed himself, slowed his footsteps, and tried not to make the slightest sound as he quietly approached Mu Zhiming.
A faint feminine fragrance grew stronger and stronger, drifting toward the tip of his nose.
He walked behind Mu Zhiming and saw that the cold woman in front of him had not turned around.
He breathed a sigh of relief.
It seemed Mu Zhiming was not angry with him yet.
Otherwise, judging by her performance on the Flying Sword last time, she would have avoided him long ago.
He relaxed, took a Black Eye Veil from his Storage Pouch, touched the lace trim, and made a circle around her.
Then he quickly moved it to the front and put it on her.
Mu Zhiming suddenly felt herself surrounded by darkness, and even the faint light that remained before her disappeared completely.
“Ah!”
A soft exclamation escaped her red lips.
She was just about to turn around and scold Ji Wangshu, demanding to know what this thing was, why he had only returned at this hour, and why there was once again another woman’s fragrance on him.
Then Ji Wangshu’s gentle voice, warm as jade, sounded.
“Don’t move. Let me tie it properly first.”
As he spoke, Ji Wangshu carefully adjusted the position of the Eye Veil.
His fingers gently passed behind her ears and tied a small bow, while the black lace trim hung down on either side of her ears.
For some reason, when she heard that familiar voice, smelled that peculiar floral fragrance mixed with the unique scent of a man, and felt his warm breath against her ear…
Mu Zhiming lowered her brows slightly.
The roots of her ears flushed with embarrassment, and a faint blush spread across her fair neck, like a Plum Blossom petal falling upon a snow lotus.
The little bit of anger in her heart vanished without a trace at that moment.
‘So I’m actually someone who can get angry with him this easily, and then have her anger dispelled by him this easily…’
That frost-like face rarely revealed a trace of confusion.
Her brows gently furrowed as though she were pondering something.
She extended her delicate hand and gently stroked the object over her eyes.
It felt soft and light, and when her fingertips touched the lace texture, there was a faint rustling sensation.
“Is this… an Eye Veil?”
Mu Zhiming’s voice was unfamiliar, carrying a hint of confusion.
“Mm-hmm.”
After tying it securely, Ji Wangshu gently held her cheeks and turned her toward his side.
Mu Zhiming suddenly felt a pair of gentle yet rough hands covering both sides of her cheeks, and her shoulders stiffened.
When her eyesight had been normal, it had been fine.
But now that both her eyes were closed and her world was dark, every tiny sensation was magnified dozens of times.
At that moment, a tingling sensation rose from her spine to the top of her head, then spread throughout her entire body along her meridians.
“Mmm~”
Her red lips parted, releasing a soft hum, and her heartbeat inexplicably quickened.
Then the man’s low voice sounded beside her once again, lingering in her right ear.
She suddenly felt itchy all over, and she could not clearly hear what the man beside her was saying.
“Earlier at the Plaza, I heard the other Senior Sisters say that your gray-white pupils were frightening, so I bought this for you.”
“If you wear it, they won’t be afraid of you anymore.”
“What do you think? Isn’t it pretty good?”
Ji Wangshu wore a look of asking for praise as he rambled on.
Then he suddenly sensed movement beside him.
He lowered his head and saw Mu Zhiming wearing a Black Eye Veil and an off-shoulder robe, her fair calves exposed.
Her legs were limp and weak, and her entire body was leaning against him.
“You… don’t talk yet.”
“…Help me up.”
He opened his mouth wide, his face filled with confusion.
‘What happened?’
‘How can a cultivator in the late Foundation Establishment Stage still get numb legs from squatting for a while?’
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