“Lunch? Hah! You get nothing!”
Shou Xin yelled.
Despite his temper, he still dutifully cooked two dishes and a soup.
Nan Shan ate most of it, quite pleased, and casually asked, “Did you learn to cook from Ji Yue?”
“How do you know?”
Shou Xin was instantly on guard.
“Did the Immortal Lord tell you?”
Afraid he’d overreact, Nan Shan quickly lied, “No, I guessed.”
That seemed to calm Shou Xin down.
Nan Shan couldn’t help teasing, “You know, I’m betrothed to Ji Yue. Isn’t it weird that you, as his attendant, get jealous so easily?”
“I’m not jealous!”
Shou Xin denied stubbornly.
The blood-red sun loomed overhead, free of dark spots for now, and the sky still looked bright for the time being.
The terrifying night of a hundred ghosts roaming felt far away now.
After experiencing it once, Nan Shan finally understood why Ji Yue said that nightfall was bad news.
She sincerely hoped the daylight would last a little longer.
Her cultivation still showed no signs of progress.
At first, Ji Yue’s unwavering belief in her touched her—but over time, she began to suspect that something might be wrong with his brain.
After yet another failed attempt, Nan Shan howled toward the sky, “I can’t take this anymore! Other people with broken arms or legs can still cultivate. Why can’t I, just because I’m missing one tiny, unimportant bone?!”
“That bone isn’t unimportant,” Shou Xin said, lying on the ground while building a bridge out of neatly cut wooden blocks.
“It’s the one closest to your heart. All your spiritual energy should gather at the heart bone. You’re missing the most important one.”
“Ji Yue said I voluntarily had it removed,” Nan Shan clutched her head in despair.
“What on earth happened in my past life that made me choose to remove such a vital bone?!”
“If you don’t even know, how would I?”
Shou Xin said while continuing to build.
“So without that bone, I can’t cultivate at all?” she demanded.
To be fair, she had made some progress—she could now sense a trickle of spiritual energy in her body.
But every time she tried to channel it through her meridians, it would get blocked near her heart, wasting all her effort.
“Of course you can cultivate,” Shou Xin said.
Her eyes lit up.
“You have a way?!”
“Nope.”
“Then why’d you sound so confident?!”
“Didn’t the Immortal Lord say you could do it? Then you definitely can.”
Nan Shan: “…I’m pretty sure he’s just making it up.”
They exchanged looks—and fake smiles.
The day dragged on too long.
Nan Shan had no idea how much time had passed since dawn.
All she knew was that the blood-red sun was once again getting covered with dark patches.
But the light was still strong. She quickly broke into a sweat and moved into the shade to daydream.
Shou Xin kept playing with his bridge game on the ground, failing several times but always calmly starting over.
When Ji Yue entered the courtyard, he saw the two of them minding their own business, pretending not to care about each other.
Amusement flickered in his eyes.
He gestured for Shou Xin to find a cooler place to rest and walked toward Nan Shan.
“Still not going well, I see,” he said after observing her expression.
Nan Shan pouted, refusing to respond.
After thinking for a moment, Ji Yue subtly turned his body, hiding his hands with his sleeve, and quietly pulled out an apple.
Nan Shan straightened up slightly.
“Is that…?”
“Shh,” Ji Yue mouthed the words silently, looking at her with a serious expression.
“There’s only one.”
Nan Shan grinned and immediately took it, hiding behind his tall figure to munch on it happily.
By the time she had gnawed it down to the core, her frown had relaxed considerably.
Seeing her in better spirits, Ji Yue finally spoke softly, “Don’t worry. We’ll find a way.”
Nan Shan let out a skeptical hum and suddenly asked, “If I get that spirit bone back, will I be able to cultivate?”
“That spirit bone was lost in your past life. I fear someone has already taken it for themselves,” Ji Yue replied.
“Then is there a way for me to grow a new one?”
She pressed.
“Maybe,” Ji Yue said after a pause.
“But I don’t know how.”
“Ugh…” Nan Shan groaned.
“So, if I want to cultivate, I have to grow a new spirit bone. But I can’t grow one, so I can’t cultivate… Isn’t that basically a dead end?”
“Don’t be impatient,” Ji Yue began.
“You’re going to say ‘we’ll find a way,’ right?!”
Nan Shan suddenly raised her voice.
“Is that all you ever say?!”
Both of them froze. Only Shou Xin, who had just moved into the shade, yelled in protest:
“Nan Shan, what are you doing? Why are you yelling at the Immortal Lord?!”
Nan Shan pressed her lips together.
Just as she was about to speak, a sharp pain shot through her body.
Her expression shifted, and she collapsed toward Ji Yue.
He caught her with one arm and placed his other hand on her forehead, sending spiritual energy into her.
“Don’t be afraid. Your spirit bone is starting to grow again,” he said in a low, soothing voice.
Nan Shan’s vision flickered in and out.
She tried to speak, but the pain drowned out her words.
It wasn’t the first time she had experienced the growth of her spirit bone so vividly.
Earlier that day, she had already gone through it once after sunrise.
Ji Yue suppressed it with his energy, but now the second wave had begun.
He had examined her carefully and said the bone could no longer be suppressed—it would have to grow fully.
He had helped her several times since.
Even though they had developed a rhythm in dealing with the growth, it was still agonizing for Nan Shan.
The intense spiritual energy clashed with her body, making even her organs bleed.
Ji Yue’s energy healed her wounds while nourishing the bone, and under the dual effects, her clothes were soon drenched in sweat.
Once the pain finally subsided and the last wound healed, Ji Yue silently exhaled in relief and carried her to the bed in her room.
Shou Xin, used to her post-growth weakness, knew Ji Yue would take care of her and didn’t follow.
“You’re drenched. If we don’t clean you up, you’ll catch a cold. Should I use a cleansing spell, or help you wipe down and change clothes?”
Ji Yue knelt by the bed, asking for her preference.
Nan Shan had no doubt that if she chose the second option, he would really start undressing her.
She closed her eyes and hoarsely replied, “Cleansing spell.”
Ji Yue nodded slightly.
With a flick of his fingers, she was instantly fresh and clean.
“Still hurting?”
He asked, voice slightly unsteady.
Nan Shan felt a dull ache lingering in her body.
After a moment of silence, she shook her head.
Ji Yue’s expression softened.
He gently reminded her, “This time I gave you more spiritual energy. Hopefully the next wave of growth won’t come for a while. You should eat well and build your strength—it’ll help prepare you.”
Nan Shan looked at the pale color of his lips and suddenly said, “I’m sorry.”
Ji Yue was startled.
“Just now… I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”
Nan Shan turned her face away, a little embarrassed.
She knew her temper had flared up today for no good reason, so she had prepared herself—whether Ji Yue forgave her or said something harsh, she would accept it.
She took a silent deep breath, pretending not to care, while secretly pricking up her ears to wait for his response.
But no matter how long she waited, Ji Yue didn’t respond.
Nan Shan’s patience wore thin, and she finally couldn’t help but turn her head back.
The next moment, Ji Yue reached out and poked her cheek with his finger.
She froze, a little dazed.
“What are you doing?”
“I forgive you,” Ji Yue said.
Nan Shan was speechless for a while, then reminded him, “That’s supposed to mean ‘thank you.’”
Ji Yue thought for a moment, then raised both hands and poked both her cheeks at the same time.
“Like this—it means you’re forgiven.”
Nan Shan: “…”
“Don’t think about anything else. Just rest,” Ji Yue said, gently patting her head.
“As for cultivating… I’ll figure it out.”
Nan Shan buried her face into the blanket, silently watching him.
Ji Yue looked into her grape-like dark eyes, his fingertips twitching slightly, but he didn’t act on it.
He simply tucked in the blanket for her and turned to leave.
Every time she experienced spirit bone pain, Nan Shan would sleep for a long time.
This time was no different.
By the time she fully woke up, Ji Yue had already left, and Shou Xin was nowhere to be found.
Ignoring the faint, lingering pain in her body, she slowly walked outside.
She glanced up at the blood sun, now two-thirds obscured by black splotches, then lowered her gaze to Shou Xin’s pile of wood blocks—
After much effort, he had finally managed to build something that resembled a bridge.
Unfortunately, it only had the supports.
The top plank was just a slab of brick.
Although it looked a little ugly and wasn’t entirely made of wood, it was still technically a bridge.
Nan Shan’s eyes shifted slightly as a spark of thought passed through her mind.
When Shou Xin walked over, he saw her staring straight at his toy.
Thinking she was about to mock him, he quickly explained, “It’s not like I did it on purpose! These wood blocks are too short, so I just… Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I have an idea.”
Nan Shan’s eyes sparkled, and her gaze turned intense.
Shou Xin took a cautious step back.
“What crazy thing are you trying to do this time?”
“I’m not doing anything crazy!”
Nan Shan ran into her room and slammed the door shut right in his face.
“No matter what happens, don’t disturb me. Don’t even call me for food. I’m going to start cultivating!”
“She’s gone mad, completely mad…”
Shou Xin muttered.
“No wonder the Immortal Lord won’t let me cultivate. He’s probably afraid I’d lose my mind like her.”
Even though he was worried about Nan Shan losing it, Shou Xin still dutifully stood guard outside her door.
When Ji Yue came, he explained politely.
When Uncle Zhong showed up, he scolded him out of sight.
In short, no one was allowed to disturb her.
Nan Shan’s room stayed shut for a very long time.
So long that nightfall was approaching again.
Shou Xin was starting to suspect she had starved to death in there, and still she hadn’t come out.
He grew more and more anxious, finally knocking on her door.
“What is it?”
Nan Shan’s annoyed voice came from inside.
Still alive. Shou Xin let out a breath of relief.
“Nothing!”
Creak—the door opened. Nan Shan leaned against it with her arms crossed.
“Didn’t I tell you not to disturb me?”
“I came because I was worried. Don’t act like I don’t care,” Shou Xin said, disgruntled.
Nan Shan chuckled.
“Okay, fine, I forgive you.”
Shou Xin snorted, then suddenly stared at her.
“What?”
Nan Shan was puzzled.
“You’re acting weird,” Shou Xin said, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
“Every time your cultivation fails, you’re always upset. But not today. Tell me—what were you really doing in there? Don’t tell me you were pretending to cultivate but actually napping?”
“Of course not. I really was cultivating,” Nan Shan said, blinking.
“And I made major progress.”
“Really?”
Shou Xin remained skeptical.
Just then, Nan Shan glanced up and saw Ji Yue approaching.
She grinned and winked at Shou Xin mysteriously.
“Don’t believe me? Let me show you.”
Nan Shan raised her hand, and a refined sphere of spiritual energy shot from her fingertip, flying straight toward Ji Yue.
The glowing ball of energy tore through the air, stirring Ji Yue’s hair.
He paused, debating whether to deflect it, but the spiritual energy suddenly stopped three inches in front of him—
Then it exploded, scattering into red petals.
The petals looked like fireworks, but lasted longer and felt more real.
Shou Xin cried out in shock, while Nan Shan burst into laughter.
Amid the noise and excitement, Ji Yue somehow felt a deep stillness around him.
A single petal landed on his lashes.
He blinked, and the petal floated downward. Nan Shan’s proud, triumphant face came into view.
“I’ve found the key to cultivation,” she declared, chin raised like a victorious little rooster.
“Soon, I’ll break through and leave this place.”
Ji Yue gazed at her for a long time, then gave her a heartfelt smile.
“Really? That’s wonderful.”