The fiery red sun dipped bit by bit behind the rolling mountains.
The bright moon gradually rose; as if in the blink of an eye, the sky was already filled with stars.
The early spring nights in Jiangnan were not biting cold. A figure, aided by the moonlight, hurried towards Dongting Stream.
Su Bei left without telling anyone; not even Saintess Key Smoke was aware.
Of course, just as Su Bei departed, Key Smoke, who was in a warm chamber overlooking the water flipping through a romance novel, gently set the book down.
By evening, the warm breeze was mildly intoxicating.
Key Smoke lay in a rocking chair—a contraption Elder Su of the Sword Sect had invented decades ago.
She was barefoot, her toenails dabbed with light-green polish. Slender, fair legs peeked from beneath the lake-green hem of her dress. Her hands were crossed over her lower abdomen. Her jade-like fingers, adorned with flower-patterned rings, radiated a profound luster in the lamplight.
