Mingxiu was unaware of the wistful feeling in Ai Hui’s heart. Her beautiful eyes swept towards the youth standing upright with a sword in his hand as her flowing sleeves danced in the breeze, shimmering like ripples of water. The needles moved back and forth like a shuttle as the spindle whirled in the air, steadily increasing the length of the cloth.
What a strange posture……
Mingxu couldn’t help but wonder how the sword would be of assistance to him. Ai Hui was as still as a statue, without a single sound or movement. During that graceful glance of hers, she saw his eyes flash like a sword being drawn out of its sheath. His eyes gave the ‘statue’ its only spark of life, appearing much like a star twinkling against the dark night.
The imposing sight inevitably reminded Mingxiu of the ancient swordsmen, leaving her full of admiration.
Her sleeves danced smoothly through the air, the tip of the needle constantly moving with an incessant hissing sound.
