Hearing this, Nan Shan immediately began untying her belt.
One piece of clothing after another fell to the ground, and large swaths of fair skin were quickly exposed to the air.
When only her undergarments were left, she looked at Ji Yue with a flushed face.
Seeing his expression calm, she silently breathed a sigh of relief.
“…It’s fine, really, it’s just like seeing a doctor. Mama always said, when you’re sick, you have to listen to the doctor. Life comes first—can’t be too concerned with modesty between men and women.”
She mumbled this, but after taking off the final garment, she still covered herself shyly with her hands, trying to block as much as she could.
Ji Yue lowered his eyes.
“Are you ready?”
Nan Shan took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
“Ready!”
As soon as the words left her mouth, a burning fingertip pressed to her forehead.
She paused. The next moment, she felt a scorching heat surge from her dantian (core) and rush through her entire body.
According to Ji Yue’s explanation, this really wasn’t an ideal way to examine someone.
If it were an ordinary healer, even a slight misstep could damage her internal organs.
But his medical skill was quite good, so she just needed to cooperate and not worry too much.
Her body grew hotter and hotter.
Beads of sweat the size of peas rolled down her skin.
Nan Shan didn’t dare open her eyes, but she felt like her whole body was about to be cooked through.
She trembled, inhaled sharply, just about to ask Ji Yue to stop—when suddenly, the heat in her body was replaced by a rush of coolness.
She instinctively opened her eyes.
Ji Yue had already draped a robe over her shoulders, his expression deeply serious.
“…”
“You’ve extracted a spiritual bone before?”
They both spoke at the same time. Nan Shan paused, eyes wide.
“No, I haven’t!”
She may have been more energetic than most girls, but her parents watched her closely—she’d never even been seriously injured.
But then, why would Ji Yue ask that?
Uneasy, Nan Shan asked, “Is something wrong?”
Ji Yue was silent for a moment, then said, “You’re missing a spiritual bone.”
Nan Shan froze.
He raised a finger and pointed through the air to the area over her left chest.
“Here—closest to the heart. One of your spiritual bones is missing. The human body is a whole. Lose one, and the rest are affected. It may look like just a single bone is gone, but the entire network of spiritual bones becomes blocked. Spiritual energy can’t circulate. No wonder you couldn’t feel anything.”
“Impossible. I’m perfectly fine. How could I be missing a bone?”
Nan Shan protested.
She even bounced in place in front of him.
“See? Could someone missing a bone be this healthy?”
Ji Yue chuckled.
“What makes you so healthy is your mortal bones—what we call human bones. But spiritual bones are what support your soul. You can’t see or touch them, but they hold vibrant spiritual energy. They’re not the same thing.”
Hearing this, Nan Shan frowned.
“…Shouldn’t you put your clothes back on first?” Ji Yue suddenly asked.
Nan Shan blinked, then realized she was only wearing the outer robe.
Her shoulders and legs were still exposed.
She hurried to the bed to grab her clothes, while Ji Yue politely turned his back.
She clumsily got dressed. Just as she was about to tell him to turn back, she noticed a faint blush creeping up the back of his neck.
She paused slightly, then raised an eyebrow.
“Ready?”
Ji Yue asked.
Nan Shan cleared her throat.
“Ready.”
Ji Yue turned around and saw her looking at him thoughtfully.
He paused, then asked, “What are you looking at?”
“Looking at the doctor,” Nan Shan folded her arms.
“I suddenly realized… Mama wasn’t completely right.”
Ji Yue was momentarily stunned, then gave a helpless smile as the blush on the back of his neck spread all the way to his ears.
“So, why am I missing a spiritual bone?”
Nan Shan broke the awkward atmosphere.
Ji Yue’s expression turned serious.
“You said you’ve never had a spiritual bone extracted—then that means the missing bone wasn’t lost in this life. If I’m not wrong, it likely happened in a previous one…”
“Hold it right there,” Nan Shan cut in, bewildered.
“Previous life?”
Ji Yue’s gaze softened.
“You’ve been to the underworld, so you should understand the cycle of reincarnation. You’re neither a newly formed spirit nor a soulless demon. If you have a present life, then naturally, you’ve had a past life too.”
“But… did I have spiritual bones in my past life too?”
Nan Shan still looked confused.
“Didn’t I tell you just now? Spiritual bones aren’t part of the body—they belong to the soul. So they follow the soul through reincarnation.”
Ji Yue’s temperament was gentle, and he didn’t lose patience despite repeating himself. Only after making sure she understood did he continue, “The reason I said you chose to extract it is because, when I examined your spiritual bones, the one that’s missing was cleanly removed. The others are completely intact. If it had been taken through injury or force, the rest would have scars or damage.”
Nan Shan opened her mouth but focused on the wrong detail:
“Extracting a spiritual bone… does it hurt?”
“It does. More painful than a thousand arrows through the heart,” Ji Yue looked at her, eyes filled with compassion.
“So your past self must have gone through something truly devastating to willingly remove an entire bone.”
Far away, in a range of endless mountains, deep within the sealed Huàláo Mountain, a wild wind suddenly arose.
A deafening serpent’s roar echoed through the peaks.
Nan Shan flinched, suddenly feeling a strange pain in her chest.
“Let’s not talk about past lives. Just tell me—what do I do now?”
Ji Yue:
“It won’t be easy.”
Nan Shan:
“I wasn’t born with a spiritual bone, so I really don’t know how to help you. You’ll have to comprehend it on your own,” Ji Yue met her gaze with a calming expression, “But don’t worry.
Until you understand your own Dao, I will infuse spiritual energy into you to nourish your spiritual bones and prevent your body from being damaged by their consumption.”
Nan Shan was silent for a long time before she couldn’t help but laugh.
“You have that much confidence in me?”
“Mm.”
Ji Yue nodded.
Nan Shan placed her hands on her hips.
“Why?”
“Because I’ve seen it,” Ji Yue said.
“There you go again… Always saying that. What, you’ve got clairvoyance or something, seeing all these things?”
She looked at his serene face and suddenly suspected he was just bluffing.
But Ji Yue only smiled in response, saying nothing.
“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I’ll just do my best from now on,”
Nan Shan stretched as she walked outside.
“But for now, let’s focus on calming down that little brat. You’re coming with me—I’m not dealing with his temper alone.”
As she spoke, she opened the door and had just stepped out when a muffled thud came from behind her.
Nan Shan quickly turned around, eyes widening in shock when she saw Ji Yue collapsed on the ground, unconscious.
She rushed over to check if he was alive.
Realizing he was still breathing steadily, she immediately ran off to knock on Shou Xin’s door.
“Shou Xin! Shou Xin!”
“Leave me alone! I don’t want to talk to you!”
The little boy inside the room yelled angrily.
Nan Shan replied innocently, “But Ji Yue just fainted.”
The moment the words left her mouth, the door flew open.
Shou Xin dashed past her and ran toward the courtyard.
After a few steps, he abruptly turned back.
“Where is the Immortal Lord?!”
“In my room. You’re not wearing shoes—”
Nan Shan was trying to kindly remind him, but before she could finish, Shou Xin had already sprinted away barefoot.
When she returned to her room, Ji Yue had already been moved to her bed, now tucked under a blanket, sleeping peacefully.
He seemed to have a preference for light blue; although the styles of his clothes and hair ties varied daily, the color remained consistent.
Nan Shan had gotten used to his subtle appearance, but now that he was covered in a bright red wedding quilt, his cheeks had gained a hint of color, making him look unexpectedly vivid and striking.
Everyone appreciates beauty.
Nan Shan couldn’t help but glance at him a few more times before turning to the concerned Shou Xin.
“So what illness does he have?”
“Don’t curse the Immortal Lord! He’s not sick—he’s just asleep.”
Nan Shan pointed at Ji Yue.
“He’s unconscious, and you’re telling me he’s not sick?”
Shou Xin replied crossly, “He’s not sick, not sick at all! The Immortal Lord is a god—how could a god get sick? He’s just too tired, and accidentally fell asleep.”
Nan Shan clicked her tongue.
“Alright then, if you say he’s not sick, then he’s not sick.”
“Hmph!”
“Still mad?” Nan Shan chuckled.
“Honestly, you’re just a kid—why so fiery?”
“What’s it to you?!”
Shou Xin didn’t want to look at her.
Nan Shan raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, so you do know it’s not my fault. If Ji Yue won’t let you cultivate, then go yell at him. What are you mad at me for?”
“I’m not mad at you! I just don’t get it—why is it that you’ve only been here for a few days and he’s already teaching you cultivation, while I’ve been following him for so long and he still refuses to teach me?”
He was only seven years old, unable to hide his emotions.
As he spoke, his eyes began to redden.
“Is it because he doesn’t like me?”
Nan Shan countered, “If he didn’t like you, then why would he choose you as his attendant? There are thousands of people on Dongyi Island. He didn’t pick anyone else—he picked you.”
Shou Xin went silent for a moment and turned his face away.
“That’s just because I looked pitiful, and the Immortal Lord has a soft heart.”
“If that’s how you see it, then there’s no point talking anymore,” Nan Shan huffed softly.
Shou Xin pouted, but he was clearly calmer than before.
The room fell silent.
|
Nan Shan quietly scooted over and sat beside him, nudging his arm.
Shou Xin clicked his tongue in annoyance and pulled away.
Nan Shan nudged him again.
After two or three times, just as Shou Xin was about to lose his temper, Nan Shan said, “Where’s your bell? Show it to me.”
“What bell?”
Shou Xin remained calm-faced.
Nan Shan narrowed her eyes.
“Don’t pretend. I saw you use it when you came after me, and again when I first arrived. You used it to unlock the barrier around this room, didn’t you? Come on, let me take a look. Don’t be so stingy. Just one look—just one look…”
She nagged endlessly until Shou Xin finally gave in and pulled out a bell from his robes.
The bell was entirely blood-red and shaped like a trumpet, the mouth nearly as wide as an adult man’s fist.
Nan Shan had no idea how he managed to carry something so large without it bulging under his clothes.
She took it from him and gave it a gentle shake.
The bell rang out with a crisp, clear sound.
“What does this thing do?” she asked, fiddling with it curiously.
Shou Xin immediately snatched it back.
“That’s a divine relic given to me by the Immortal Lord! Show some respect.”
“So stingy,” Nan Shan pouted.
Shou Xin huffed but answered her earlier question.
“This bell is called the Soul-Guarding Bell. It’s specifically used to set up barriers. With it, even if someone accidentally wanders into the back courtyard, I can use it to set up a barrier and keep them out.”
“Then why didn’t you use it at sea?”
Nan Shan asked immediately.
Shou Xin gave her a sidelong glance.
“Because its full power only works in the back courtyard. At sea, it can only create a thin wall, and it disappears quickly.”
Nan Shan nodded in realization, about to say more, when she noticed Shou Xin’s eyes suddenly reddening.
“The Immortal Lord is so good to me… I shouldn’t have thrown a tantrum.”
Nan Shan:
“…What just happened? Did he just talk himself out of being mad?”
Unfortunately, before she could figure it out, Shou Xin wiped his eyes and got up.
“Alright, if there’s nothing else, I’ll go back to my room and reflect on my behavior.”
“Take your Immortal Lord with you,” Nan Shan said quickly.
Shou Xin gave her a strange look.
“He’s your husband.”
Nan Shan corrected him,
“Fiancé.”
“This is the bridal chamber,” Shou Xin said.
“But we haven’t… done anything,” Nan Shan insisted.
Shou Xin: “Oh. Then wait till he wakes up and does it.”
Nan Shan: “…Got a problem?”
Shou Xin: “What, you scared?”
Nan Shan remained silent for a long while. In the end, she wasn’t so insane as to try explaining what a bridal chamber meant to a seven-year-old child.
With her heart weighed down by sadness and guilt, she said nothing, and simply walked away.
The light dimmed.
In the blink of an eye, the once spacious bedchamber was left with only two people.
Nan Shan glanced at Ji Yue’s wrist, which was exposed outside the blanket, and saw a faint reddish mark on it.
“Alright then.”
Yawning, Nan Shan sat down at the table, planning to wait for him to wake up before going to sleep herself.
But that wait stretched into most of the day.
Time seemed to freeze on the island of Dongyi, where day and night shifted far too slowly.
Yet Nan Shan felt every single minute with painful clarity.
After hitting her head on the table one too many times, she suddenly sat up in shock, her face blank as she climbed into bed.
Maybe it was because someone was next to her, but even though she was exhausted, once she lay down, she couldn’t sleep soundly.
Even the slightest sound would wake her.
After waking up several times, she finally fell into a deep sleep.
Her relaxed body unconsciously leaned toward the person beside her.
When Ji Yue opened his eyes, it felt like his thoughts had been frozen for ten thousand years.
He lowered his gaze and quietly looked at the girl in his arms, yet couldn’t even recall her name.
And it was under that gaze that Nan Shan awoke.
The moment she opened her eyes, their gazes met.
Ji Yue’s lips twitched slightly, and then finally, slowly, curved into a smile.
“I saw you again,” he said softly.
Nan Shan blinked, confused.
“What?”
Ji Yue paused, then suddenly snapped back to full awareness.