In the dim room, only a few faint rays of light filtered through the gaps in the heavy curtains, casting a hazy gloom over everything.
A faint, sweet and salty scent permeated the air.
Countless crumpled balls of paper were scattered across the floor like carelessly discarded thoughts, messy and disordered.
Qing Yueqiu stood quietly in the center of the room, looking down at the utter mess. Her brows furrowed slightly, a hint of helplessness and regret flashing in her eyes.
"I... slipped up again."
"I can't help but slip up every hour. How am I supposed to practice my swordsmanship when I'm this restless?"
She let out a soft sigh. Her voice was so low it was almost inaudible, yet it sounded exceptionally clear in the silent room.
The girl's scarlet eyes wandered before finally landing on the faint beam of light by the window, her gaze filled with confusion and struggle.
