Seeking Answers in the Preserved Ribs, the Reciting Voices, and the Veiled Cap

Seeing Jing Jiu's pale face and the faint golden color in the deep end of his eyes, Zhao Layue fell silent.

It was not so quiet in the Tranquil Garden right now, because the coughing could be heard once in a while here.

Liu Shisui swept the remaining snow and debris on the ground with the third broom he had made this year. His face looked pale, and he would cough now and then.

The winters had been colder over the last few years, and the Fruit Formation Temple had seen some snowfalls. The conflict of zhenqi inside his body had gotten worse lately.

The white cat sauntered about in the garden, and his gaze glanced between the pale faces of Jing Jiu and that of Liu Shisui, staring with a pitiful expression.