They started to study the trio's tactics and found their own partners to practice with. They occasionally sparred against one another to improve themselves.
Time flew by quickly. It had already been three months. It was now early autumn. Clouds were floating in the skies next to the crescent moon, setting each other off.
Gu Xijiu was not the kind of person who would convey a sense of melancholy in the winds or under the moonlight. The melancholy was for the poets who preferred romantic themes. She was only there to reflect on herself.
She felt that her attention towards something had always been undivided. For instance, she liked a celebrity at the age of 12, and she had been feeling the same way for him ever since.
No matter how he looked like, a handsome youth in his springtime or an uncle in his middle age, she still liked him, even after she had entered the training camp for assassins.
