Chapter 703: A Garment

Heimu paused for a beat, then added, "I was just having too much fun, maybe I haven't thought of coming back yet."

The moment the words left his mouth, Heimu regretted it.

It wasn't regret over saying the wrong thing, but regret over not having prepared a camera.

A Ge Lai Ya's fingers clearly contracted on the cat's back; five slender, pale fingers simultaneously cupped together, pulling up a small tuft of the gray cat's fur.

The gray cat protested with a meow, A Ge Lai Ya instantly released her grip, looked down at it, then resumed her composed posture.

But that grab had already exposed all the information cleanly.

Heimu suddenly realized what "Cat Lover" actually meant.

It's not that A Ge Lai Ya likes cats.

It's Sai Fei Er.

The cat that has been frolicking on Xianzhou, still not thinking of returning.

Cat Lover, A Ge Lai Ya is a lover of Sai Fei Er.

So that's it.

Good fellow, you can attach any strange entry.

She pretended not to see anything, lifted the tea cup on the table and took a sip.

The tea was already cold, but that didn't matter.

"If Ms. A Ge Lai Ya needs it,"

Heimu set the cup down, drew a circle on the rim with a finger, "I can bring Sai Fei Er back."

A Ge Lai Ya's demeanor did not change at all; her dignified seated posture remained the same, her hands still overlapped, even the curve at the corner of her mouth stayed untouched.

In a faint tone: "No need. I am merely a comrade, concerned about her recent situation. It does not include other emotions. After all, the outside world has many novelties that Weng Fa Luo Si cannot give her; to her, they are flowers that cannot grow in this eternal land."

Heimu lifted the tea cup again and took another sip.

"Is that so?"

How does she feel the aura of the person opposite has changed slightly?

The golden threads floating in the air had been hanging quietly, but now several of them were unconsciously looping, looping again and again, faster each time, winding several coils around the white corridor pillars behind her.

The Wanwei Net apparently forgot it was merely an information‑transmission tool, and leaked everything its owner didn't want to say aloud.

This aura, this atmosphere, this spoken "no need" while the golden threads have tangled themselves into a yarn ball, reveals a deep sense of emptiness, loneliness, and cold.

But Heimu did not point it out.

Perhaps she overthought it.

She set the tea cup down, adjusted her posture, and decided to pretend she observed nothing.

"I see. Then I respect your opinion."

She tried hard not to let the corner of her mouth lift too obviously, but she wasn't sure if she succeeded.

A Ge Lai Ya spoke again, her tone still steady, but each subsequent word was slower than before, as if weighing her words, also as if giving some absent person enough time to sense the passage.

"If possible—"

she said, "Please deliver a sentence to her."

Heimu nodded.

"Go ahead."

A Ge Lai Ya's eyelashes drooped slightly.

That silence may have lasted only a second or two, light as a butterfly wing brushing a petal then departing, yet in the gap the golden threads on the corridor pillar unconsciously looped half a circle.

Then her eyes lifted again, still clear and warm, still composed and noble, her voice still steady as usual.

"I have newly sewn a garment for her. Tailoring is a reformer's primary duty, no need for a fuss. But this garment—"

Her eyelashes drooped, she lifted a hand to gently stroke the cat on her leg; the cat let out a muffled purr, "This garment needs someone to try it on."

Heimu almost choked on the tea in his mouth.

What a "newly sewn garment," said lightly, said dignified and elegant, said as if merely discussing a piece of clothing.

But paired with the golden threads that had just tangled into a yarn ball, with the gray cat whose fur had been tugged, with the phrase "does not include other emotions," this sentence is clearly a beautifully packaged, awkward longing.

Yet it has to be twisted around to sew a garment.

No wonder it's the Godfather; even urging someone home, he can speak with such flair.

"It will definitely be brought."

Heimu placed the tea cup on the table, stood up, and casually took the Witch Hat nearby and fastened it back on their head.

The brim cast a sharp shadow across the forehead, covering the slight curve at the corner of her mouth that was about to break.

Then she raised her hand, fingertips tracing a light slash in the air, and two ultra‑thin violet‑black light strands flashed over A Ge Lai Ya's head.

The Godfather entry dissipated. The Cat Lover entry also faded.

Though it's not urgent, keeping it is still an eyesore.

A Ge Lai Ya didn't notice what was missing above her head.

"For now, farewell, Ms. A Ge Lai Ya. I will continue to investigate the anomaly, and will keep you updated on Bai E's progress. As for the message, once Sai Fei Er receives it, she will surely return soon to try the garment."

She turned and walked toward the corridor exit, her ash‑gray long hair swinging an arc behind her shoulders, her boots striking the marble floor with a crisp sound.

From behind came A Ge Lai Ya's still steady and weighty voice.

"May your path be clear, Ms. Heimu."

Her fingers returned to the gray cat's spine, stroking along the direction of the fur one gentle pass after another, movements composed, posture elegant, showing no sign of the earlier lapse.

Only the gray cat, probably still resentful of the fur tug, flicked its tail, turned its back, pressed its rear toward its owner, and buried its face deep into the soft cushion.

Perspective shift.

Qingque lay on the fish's back, arm propped under the head, one leg crossed over the other, toes gently swaying with the rhythm of the fish's fin.

In the distance, that towering Golden Giant Tree is still growing; its speed has indeed slowed compared to earlier, dropping from a frantic expansion of several kilometers per second to a leisurely outward shift, yet it continues to grow.

Branches surge layer upon layer, like a mudslide slowed down countless times; each inch of advance carries a heavy sense of pressure.

Occasionally a newly formed Branch bursts from the trunk, generating a low rumble; the sound from the tree takes several seconds to reach her ears, an absurd delay that shows the distance keeps widening.

The crimson eyes on the tree keep turning; each time one faces her direction, an invisible pressure rolls over her chest, making her heart skip a beat.

Other than that, it's all right.

In short, Qingque has grown too lazy to care.

She even thinks just lying here and watching the scenery isn't bad.

This tree, though a bit terrifying in its growth, and the countless eyes on its trunk that make one's scalp tingle, setting those aside—it's magnificent (?).

The whole sky is filled with gold; each branch breathes slowly, and the entire world is pressed densely by it.