The gaping hole in Gu Ting’s back made Zhi Xi start shedding tears again. Xuan Yi stood to the side enduring the pain in her hand as she played with her sleeve, glancing now at her, now at Yan Xia who was likewise silently wiping away tears. She could only continue to remain silent.

“Is it because of Fu Luo?” Zhi Xi wiped away her tears with a handkerchief and asked softly.

Yan Xia silently nodded. “Senior Sister Zhi Xi knows about it too…”

Zhi Xi sighed. She too had learned of their continued involvement during a small gathering of classmates, when she heard Gu Ting murmuring Fu Luo’s name while drunk. For this, she had even specifically gone to the Bingwu Division to find Fu Luo, but Fu Luo blocked her with a single sentence: He’s willing, I’m willing—what business is it of yours?

Yes, Gu Ting was willing, Fu Luo was enjoying herself, and her actions really did seem like meddling. She had always disapproved of the divine realm’s unrestrained and dissolute atmosphere, priding herself on finding a unique soulmate in the future. But thinking about it now, she was the greatest fool of all.

It was Fucang before, and now it was…

She used every ounce of her strength to keep herself from thinking of that name. Rising to her feet, she said, “I should go back now. Junior Sister Yan Xia, take good care of Junior Brother Gu Ting.”

Walking slowly out of Zhengze Academy, gazing at the Wood Fire Wutong trees interwoven with golden-green hues everywhere, the scenes she had witnessed earlier that had shattered her heart and liver interlaced before her eyes one after another. Zhi Xi only felt that all the bones in her body had become countless times heavier. Xuan Yi held her arm and said gently, “Senior Sister, won’t you stay for one night? Just stay at my Baijia Academy.”

Zhi Xi’s expression was complex. She paused for a long while, then smiled with difficulty. “I need to go back. The Wuchen Division is very busy. Next time.”

Xuan Yi regretfully saw her off to the entrance of Yuhua Hall, waving her hand as she watched her depart into the distance. Zhi Xi seemed very strange today—could it be that the Wuchen Division of her dreams had disappointed her? Or was she frightened by Gu Ting’s injury?

She made her way back to Baijia Academy. Rarely, the attendant goddess hadn’t gone out to play wildly today. Seeing her arrive, she came out to greet her with a face full of smiles. “Princess, Qingyuan Dadi just sent divine officials to deliver two sets of battle general attire. Would the Princess like to try them on?”

Xuan Yi glanced at the couch in the outer hall, where a blue set and a white set of battle general attire were laid out. She should try them on, but her right hand really hurt terribly—she had been extremely ruthless with herself today. She immediately shook her head. “I’ll try them tomorrow. I’m tired and don’t want to eat.”

She walked into the bedchamber, lifted the gauze curtains, and collapsed onto the bed. Her right hand hurt dozens of times more than it had a few days ago, pulling until even her head began to ache. Often she would just fall asleep only to be awakened by the pain, tossing and turning. Not until the sky grew faintly light did the severe pain ease slightly, allowing her to sleep more deeply with gradually heavy breathing.

Not knowing how long she had slept, she rolled over in her deep slumber and pressed on her right hand. The pain made Xuan Yi shudder and suddenly wake up.

The layered gauze curtains were suddenly pulled aside. A hand gently supported her shoulder, and Fucang’s low voice sounded by her ear. “You’re awake?”

Xuan Yi was so startled she nearly jumped up. She abruptly turned over and glared at him. “…Where are your Huaxu Clan’s principles of propriety and etiquette?”

Fucang again couldn’t quite keep up with her erratic train of thought. “What?”

“Barging into a goddess’s bedchamber like this—which article of the principles of propriety and etiquette is that?”

Fucang didn’t speak for a long time, then sat down on the bed and said calmly, “Since you’re awake, get up and prepare to practice swordplay.”

Originally he couldn’t have come this quickly. There was still much to discuss regarding the extermination of Dajun Suihu—the deployment of battle generals, the arrangement of tactics all required careful planning. Who knew that yesterday, Tian Di had suddenly issued a decree summoning all the Dijuns of the divine realm, including those Dadis above the Thirty-Three Heavens, to go to the Heavenly Palace together to discuss some important matter. The plan to exterminate Dajun Suihu could only be temporarily shelved.

It had already been several days since he’d seen Dragon Princess. He had come especially early today, but who knew that nearly until the Hour of the Dragon she still hadn’t gotten up. He entered the bedchamber to check on the situation and, hearing the deep breathing from within the gauze curtains and knowing she was sleeping soundly, didn’t wake her.

Xuan Yi’s hand hurt badly. Having no way to prove her positive attitude toward learning, she could only shrink further under the covers. “I don’t want to practice today.”

Fucang stared at her fluffy long hair spread across the pillow and said in a low voice, “So today’s task is to continue lying here all day?”

She immediately turned over, genuinely with tears brimming in her eyes. “…I really don’t want to practice.” But she wanted to eat.

Fucang paid her no mind and grabbed her by the back collar to drag her out from under the covers. “Get up.”

Xuan Yi struggled desperately. Her right hand struck against Chun Jun at his waist, and the pain made her gasp sharply. She clutched it for a long time, unable to move.

“What’s wrong?” Fucang seized her arm and carefully examined her right hand. There wasn’t even a small cut on it. He used his fingertips to gently press her hand bones—there was no injury whatsoever.

“Don’t touch me.” Xuan Yi struggled free with all her might and covered her head with the blanket. “I’m not practicing today. Come back tomorrow.”

If this continued, she really wouldn’t learn swordplay well even in ten thousand years. But from the bottom of his heart, he actually didn’t really want these hands to grip a sword in combat, so much so that from the very beginning his teaching had been perfunctory and indulgent—if she couldn’t learn swordplay well, then so be it. It didn’t matter.

Fucang let out a breath and placed his palm on her fluffy hair. “Then continue sleeping.”

A gap opened in the blanket, and her dark, lustrous eyes looked at him warily. “Will there be something to eat when I’m hungry?”

A trace of a smile rose in Fucang’s eyes. Without answering, one hand gently caressed her cheek, brushing aside the disheveled hair from her face. Xuan Yi slowly but firmly pushed at this hand. The next moment, her wrist was seized and tucked back under the covers, and that hand fell on her hair again, stroking it twice. “Sleep.”

The clean and clear aura filled the entire world. She wanted to struggle but was powerless to struggle. It must be because her right hand hurt too much.

Xuan Yi squeezed her eyes tightly shut. His hand remained on her hair, occasionally stroking it twice like petting a cat. Did he take her for that foolish lion? She turned over, avoiding his hand, but soon he caught up again, drawing her back under his palm.

His long sleeve fell before her eyes, with dark silver thread embroidering cloud patterns that were elegant and simple. Xuan Yi stared at it for a long time, then suddenly felt his fingers touching her face, brushing her trembling eyelids. He said softly, “Not sleeping?”

Xuan Yi shrank downward, trying to avoid his hand, but he gently pinched her face and turned her head back. A crabapple blossom in spring slumber, her cheeks still flushed—the skin his fingertips touched began to burn again. She closed her eyes, her eyelashes trembling constantly.

Fucang couldn’t help but lean down and kiss her lips gently. When their lips touched, she retreated rapidly as if startled. He spread his arms and embraced her, pressing the back of her head toward himself as he slowly kissed along her jawline all the way to her lips, placing a kiss on her slightly upturned upper lip.

“If you won’t sleep, then don’t sleep.” His other hand cradled her chin, his thumb gently caressing her lower lip, parting those plump, soft lips. He lowered his head and kissed her again, but this time somewhat fiercely, allowing no resistance as he searched out every hiding place between her lips and teeth.

No matter how she hid, she couldn’t escape. Finally her tongue tip was caught in lingering entanglement, profound licking—he had never kissed this deeply or intensely before. Again and again she was awakened to clarity by the pain in her right hand, and again and again he pressed her back down into sinking. She tried to push him away, but her wrists were seized and pressed onto the bed, fingers intertwined. He used his fingertips to carefully caress the most tender skin between her fingers.

Not knowing whether it was tingling pleasure or pain, Xuan Yi simply couldn’t tell what tangled state she was in right now. She was both grateful that the hand pain occasionally cleared her mind, and hated that this pain prevented her from sinking down completely.

She felt herself trembling. The hand pressing the back of her head had moved downward, passing through her long hair to caress the nape of her neck, then parting her collar. His thumb traced an extremely gentle line across her collarbone. Fucang licked her half-open, panting lips, gradually moving downward, kissing her burning, flushed neck.