"Little Yueqiu."
The gentle call brought Qing Yueqiu back to her senses. She found herself looking into the apologetic eyes of her Grand Master, Yuan Tianming.
The corners of the old man's wrinkled eyes drooped slightly, and the vertical lines etched between his brows were deeper than usual.
He raised a gaunt hand, as if to pat her on the head, but he paused mid-air and ultimately lowered it gently.
"Little Yueqiu, you've suffered a great deal, being entangled with that Female Demon all this time."
Yuan Tianming's voice was hoarse yet gentle, like a cup of aged tea—bitter, but with a sweet aftertaste.
As he spoke, his silver-white beard trembled slightly with the downturn of his lips. His eyes, which had seen the vicissitudes of life, were filled with pity and self-reproach, as if he were blaming himself for not discovering his grand-disciple's plight sooner.
