When the dusk of the seventh day, wrapped in the fresh fragrance of locust leaves, drifted into the village, the knuckles of the hand with which Ye Fan pinched that slice of green bamboo had turned pale. On the stone table beneath the old locust tree, the tea in the coarse pottery bowl had long since gone cold. He gazed at the red sleeves fluttering by the lattice window of the embroidery tower not far away—Su Qingxue was standing on tiptoe, taking in the scented handkerchiefs drying along the veranda. The silver hairpin in her hair flashed in the remaining glow like an unfallen star.
"Are you going to Nameless Valley?" Lin Zhaoyue's voice was like a sword blade steeped in mountain spring water, cold yet edged with sharpness. She had appeared beside the stone table at some unknown moment, her plain white sword tassel brushing against the back of Ye Fan's hand. "I am going with you."
Ye Fan raised his head, running straight into those eyes reflecting the rosy clouds. The eyes of the Cangwu Sword Sect Saintess had always held only swords and clouds, but at this moment they condensed with an unmelting solemnity—in his past life, he had witnessed too much life and death, yet in these eyes he read something far more searing than "living and dying together."
Chapter 379