Xiaoling went to her room and locked the doors. She pulled Weisheng's coat from her shoulders and threw it on the bed. She quickly knelt and summoned her guqin on her lap, playing a random melody to clear her mind. She couldn't help but wonder why she remained speechless in front of Weisheng. She felt like a pushover, and it irked her.
She closed her eyes and plucked the strings of the guqin. But her frustration ruined the melody. She opened her eyes and exhaled, "I'm his Master, and he's my disciple. How dare he?!"
—
Weisheng sat on the pavilion's seating lifelessly, holding his head in his hands. He felt strange ever since returning from the Heaven Realm. He didn't feel like himself. He said things he would never say and did things he would die but do.
Suddenly, he heard footsteps closing in on him. He looked up frantically, only to see Qiang.
"Why are you sitting here?" Qiang asked casually, "And with a pot of soup…?" She raised an eyebrow.
