Chapter 88: Butterfly Dance Among Peach Blossoms

“Jiang Zhao.”

Jiang Jian spoke again.

Jiang Zhao shook her head vigorously, snapping back to awareness, and Mianqiang sat up.

Her eyelids hung low, her expression still dazed.

“Jiang Jian.”

The girl lifted her head, black hair falling down, “Why do I feel pain when I see you?”

Jiang Jian fell silent.

Jiang Zhao looked at him and said softly, “What’s wrong with my headache?”

“Jiang Jian, you’ve always known, haven’t you?”

As she spoke.

She glanced around.

Beneath her was a comfortable bed; beyond the partition, a luxurious cabin glowed with blue light.

Through the porthole, far off, she could see rolling clouds.

“I’m taking you to be treated.”

Jiang Jian finally spoke.

Jiang Zhao bit her soft lips and said, “Why have I lost my memories?”

“Jiang Jian, you know too, don’t you?”

She was clever.

From fleeting fragments of memory, she could deduce much.

Jiang Jian said, “I know.”

Jiang Zhao smiled faintly: “So you’ve been lying to me all along?”

The girl lifted her gaze, her pupils clear and pure.

Silver light flickered, cold as frost.

“I said.”

Jiang Jian intensified his tone, “I’m taking you to be treated.”

Jiang Zhao shook her head: “I’m not sick.”

Jiang Jian looked at her: “Are you disobeying me?”

“Obey.”

Jiang Zhao whispered, “But you must tell me the truth.”

Jixue, all four paws moving, tail curled around a water cup, walked to the bed: “Drink some water.”

It placed the cup beside Jiang Zhao’s hand and looked at Jiang Jian: “I’ve already arranged with Anhe Academy; she’s been granted seven days’ leave.”

Jiang Jian nodded, took the warm water cup, and handed it to his sister.

Jiang Zhao did not take it, but fixed her gaze on Jiang Jian: “Just now, I gained a new memory.”

“Or rather—I remembered something from childhood.”

“Guangling City.”

“Shadow Zone.”

“Public Care Center.”

The girl’s voice was calm, unlike her usual tone.

“Someone tried to approach me—but their body shattered, dying in a bizarre manner.”

“I want to know what happened after.”

“Jiang Jian, tell me the truth.”

Her gaze was equally clear.

Deep within her pupils lay an indescribable resolve.

Jiang Zhao, too, was outwardly gentle but inwardly firm.

A silence stretched for dozens of seconds.

“What you can know, I will tell you.”

Jiang Jian finally spoke, “But some things, you must not know.”

The girl finally took the cup and asked, “Things I can’t know? For example?”

Jiang Jian shook his head.

A soul-loss patient must never learn the truth of their illness.

Jiang Zhao leaned against the bed rail, sipped warm water, her face still pale.

She looked at Jiang Jian and said softly, “Then tell me what I can know.”

“I left for one night.”

Jiang Jian said, “But the method I left behind to protect you was never used.”

He looked at his sister, his gaze calm, “Even now, I still don’t understand why.”

Hearing this,

Jiang Zhao’s expression shifted slightly.

From these words, she had already deduced it.

Jiang Jian did not know about this memory.

That day,

The tall, muscular boy lunged at her—she merely glanced at him.

His body collapsed into dust, dying in a bizarre manner.

Jiang Jian clearly did not know this.

But she said nothing.

She was waiting for the truth.

Every time she thought of Jiang Jian, deep within her spirit, pain surged forth—the truth.

“And then?”

Her thoughts paused; the girl asked again.

Jiang Jian said, “I killed the director, then returned to the courtyard and wiped out everything there.”

“After that,”

“I took you to be treated.”

“Cured your illness.”

Jiang Jian smiled, “Though there are some side effects.”

“That’s why I came to Anhezhou—to bring you here.”

As he spoke,

The Overborder Flyer pierced through clouds and mist, occupying the highest air corridor in the province, racing toward Guangling City.

“No.”

Jiang Zhao suddenly spoke.

This was the first time she had ever said no to Jiang Jian.

Jiang Jian looked at her, his brow furrowed, his smile gone.

Jiang Zhao said seriously, “Tell me the truth.”

Jiang Jian asked, “What truth?”

Jiang Zhao spoke slowly, word by word: “Who treated my illness as a child? How was I cured?”

She held the warm water cup, her fingers unnaturally steady.

A longer silence followed.

“Jiang Zhao.”

Jiang Jian said coldly, taking the cup from her hand, “Enough.”

A few seconds later,

The girl lifted her head, her dark hair disheveled, a faint, soft smile curling at her crimson lips: “Fine, I won’t ask anymore.”

Deep within her pupils,

Silver light surged, then vanished in an instant.

The Overborder Flyer landed.

Its massive shadow fell, drawing crowds of onlookers.

The hatch opened, the gangway extended to the ground.

Below, people had already cast looks of awe and admiration, murmuring among themselves.

“Where did this giant flyer come from?”

“What a beautiful airship.”

“Bigger than an entire apartment building!”

“Even the city government’s unmanned flyers are several times smaller!”

“If you sold this thing for Alliance coins, how many hovercars could you buy?”

“So beautiful, so imposing!”

Amid the bustle.

Jiang Jian stepped down the gangway first.

The girl sat sideways on the back of a gray fox, following behind.

The crowd instantly scattered, retreating far away.

Jiang Jian’s academy uniform was luxurious and exquisitely crafted, its embroidered patterns glowing faintly.

The identity tokens of these Shadow Zone residents could not log into the Linjiang Forum.

Naturally, they had no idea this was the Linjiang Academy uniform.

But they knew that luxury airships were expensive.

Anyone who descended from an airship wearing such attire was certainly beyond their ability to provoke.

“Why did they go to Jin Po’s place?”

“Jin Po is lonely and destitute—how could she possibly have ties to such important people?”

“What’s their relationship with Jin Po?”

“This is truly bizarre!”

When they saw Jiang Jian heading toward a low house beside the neighborhood, their murmurs of confusion grew louder.

The fluffy gray fox the girl rode on drew no attention at all.

In the Shadow Zone,

non-citizens were far too common.

Ordinary fox spirits were practically everywhere.

At the front door.

Jiang Jian knocked gently.

A few seconds later,

a frail voice came from behind the broken wooden door: “Come in.”

The room was cramped.

Yet the light was unusually bright.

Jin Po smiled at Jiang Jian: “It’s you.”

Her hair was white, her face lined with wrinkles.

But her eyes were like clear mirrors, utterly free of cloudiness.

“It’s me.”

Jiang Jian said softly, “I’ve come to pick something up.”

Jin Po, hunched over, coughed a few times and smiled bitterly: “By the calendar, it’s time.”

She reached out, pulled a wooden box from a drawer, and placed it on the table.

“Take it.”

Jiang Jian did not touch the box. He looked at Jin Po and asked: “Where is she?”

Jin Po pointed to the wall: “There.”

On the side wall hung a photograph.

A figure clad in a loose, hooded black robe, face obscured.

A strand of jet-black hair hung down from the robe’s edge.

“Jiang Jian.”

The girl stepped into the room.

In an instant,

the photograph crumbled to ash and scattered.

“Leave quickly.”

Jin Po coughed more violently; somehow, her face had turned as pale as paper.

“Thank you.”

Jiang Jian picked up the wooden box and bowed to Jin Po in an ancient gesture.

It was something “she” had taught him personally when treating his sister’s illness.

A tribute to the passage of life.

The next second,

Jiang Jian seized his sister’s wrist and walked straight out of the house.

“Jiang Jian?”

The girl raised an eyebrow.

Jiang Jian shook his head: “She stayed here solely to deliver the medicine for her.”

He led Jiang Zhao up the gangway.

As soon as they entered the cabin, he opened the wooden box.

Inside lay a single snow-white pill.

Without the box to contain it, a pure, fragrant aroma spread through the air.

Jiang Jian stared at the pill for several seconds, then closed the box and placed it in his backpack.

“Jiang Zhao, you must stay aboard the flyer until the 15th.”

Jiang Jian looked at his sister: “On the 15th, I’ll watch you take the medicine, then escort you back to Anhe Academy.”

This time, the girl asked no further questions and nodded: “Alright.”

The cabin door closed.

The interzone flyer rose into the sky, pierced through thick clouds, and hovered in the uninhabited upper air.

“Scientific Principles, Acupoint Mastery, Introduction to Theology.”

“I’ve annotated them all for you.”

Jiang Jian pulled out three books and handed them to his sister: “Take them back. Study them during your free time, following my annotations.”

Jiang Zhao asked: “Can I start cultivating now?”

Jiang Jian nodded: “Once I take you back to Anhe Academy on the 15th, you can begin.”

He took out a brand-new Frostband and slipped it onto his sister’s wrist.

“This will suffice—for now.”

“Later, once your cultivation progresses, we’ll replace it.”

Jiang Zhao lifted her wrist, staring at the bracelet wreathed in frost blossoms, and asked: “How much does this cost?”

Jixue leaned forward, nudging her skirt with its fluffy head: “This thing is expensive!”

(End of Chapter)