We Agreed On Experiencing Life, So Why Did You Immortals Become Real?

Tushan Jingci twisted two fingers tightly together, her fingertips unconsciously fidgeting. The long legs beneath her skirt moved faster and faster, wishing she could hurry and throw Xiao Mo behind her.

To her, when she wrote that poem, it had come from genuine feeling. Every word and every line held her longing for Xiao Mo, and the way she had waited day after day, hoping he would leave seclusion sooner.

Who could have imagined that this poem would spread so quickly?

And now Xiao Mo knew it too.

It was truly too embarrassing.

This feeling was somehow even more embarrassing than when she had confessed her feelings to him yesterday.

“What is there to be embarrassed about?” Xiao Mo caught up with her, his tone carrying a deliberately puzzled note. “Isn’t this poem just about spring peach blossoms? Could there be some other meaning?”

“You... hmph... I’m ignoring you...” Tushan Jingci lifted a small fist and lightly punched Xiao Mo on the shoulder. She turned her head away, and her steps grew even faster.

Seeing that she truly was embarrassed beyond endurance, Xiao Mo stopped teasing her and only followed silently by her side, letting the gradually setting slant of the sun draw their shadows long and overlapping together.

“Unfair...”

After they had walked for a long while, the young woman, who had kept her delicate head lowered and had been walking forward with it buried, suddenly muttered softly.

“What is unfair?” Xiao Mo asked.

The young woman raised her head. Those watery eyes stared straight at him, her tone carrying a few traces of sweet annoyance. “Only you get to laugh at me. That is unfair!”

“I really wasn’t laughing at you.” Xiao Mo quickly explained, “I truly think it was well written.”

“I don’t care. Just now, you were laughing at me.” Tushan Jingci pouted, her cheeks puffing slightly.

“All right. Then shall I apologize to Young Lady?” Xiao Mo said with a smile.

“I don’t want your apology.” Tushan Jingci lifted her chin. As her eyes shifted, they carried a few traces of charming willfulness. “You... you have to write a poem too!”

“Me?” Xiao Mo was slightly stunned.

“That’s right! You have to write a poem too. I want to laugh at you properly as well!” Tushan Jingci turned and blocked Xiao Mo’s path, placing both hands on her slender waist. Her cheeks were puffed out, and she looked as though she would not stop until she achieved her goal.

“And it has to be... has to be...”

As she spoke, the young woman’s cheeks grew redder and redder, and her voice gradually lowered, as soft as a summer breeze brushing through mountain woods and leaving only a faint, fine rustle behind.

“A poem... written for me...”

...

One month later.

The demon-race world, Cold Mountain City.

One month ago, a pair of women in Daoist robes had come to Cold Mountain City, causing the city’s common people to stop and watch, their eyes unable to move away for a long time.

And today, one month later, Cold Mountain City welcomed two unfamiliar women.

One wore a white skirt, while the other wore a green skirt.

The woman in the green skirt already had a beauty capable of toppling states and cities, her brows and eyes full of moving grace.

But the woman in the white skirt beside her was beautiful to an even more unreasonable degree, so beautiful that no words could be found to describe her.

It was as though the moment the woman in white stood there quietly, all color left the world. Heaven and earth and all things dimmed, leaving only the snow-white figure of her.

Moreover, between each movement of her hand and foot, the woman in white carried a naturally formed imperial majesty, as though all things in the world ought to submit beneath her skirt. It made others dare only to watch from afar, not daring to approach in the slightest.

The woman in white slowly walked through the streets and alleys of Cold Mountain City, all the way to the foot of the mountain wrapped in dense Confucian literary fortune.

Standing at the foot of the mountain, she raised her head and saw the four words “Cold Mountain Academy” written above the mountain gate in upright regular script, the brushwork vigorous and the lingering rhythm long.

“I did not expect that such rich literary fortune could still exist in the demon-race world.” The woman in green looked around, her expression carrying no small amount of surprise and emotion.

“It is indeed not easy.”