Inside the room.
Zhiwei was already sitting cross-legged in meditation on her small bed, with the spiritual power from the Frost Splendor Record circulating around her, carrying a slight chill.
But Qing Jun was tossing and turning, somewhat unable to sleep.
The little girl, for some reason, felt inexplicably sad today, as if a wad of cotton were stuck in her chest, heavy and indescribable.
During the day, her mentor kept teasing her, temporarily making her forget this troublesome feeling.
But when night fell and the world quieted, the melancholy in her heart began to spread uncontrollably.
She thought of that beautiful Aunt Mao from the day, remembered her gentle gaze and pleasant voice, as well as the silver bell she had given her.
But the more she thought about it, the stronger the inexplicable sense of loss in her heart became.
Chen Ye naturally noticed Qing Jun's unusual behavior.
