In the shadowy bedchamber, a candlelight flickered.
Light and shadow intertwined, figures swayed.
Fan Wubing suddenly appeared in front of the dark purple coffin, staring intently at Jiang Sha, who rested her chin on the edge of the coffin. Her long hair hung loose, her eyes were grayish, her lips pale, and she looked lifeless.
A gentle curve crept at the corner of her mouth, she softly said:
"You're back."
The oppressive atmosphere in the room softened with her voice. The tension in Fan Wubing eased. He silently lifted her from the coffin, draped a sheer veil over her, and began preparing for incense and bathing.
Throughout the dressing process, Fan Wubing remained silent.
Looking at the elegant Jiang Sha in the mirror, he finally asked,
"How is it?"
Jiang Sha's pupils seemed like black holes, the edges glistening, the center a pitch-black abyss,
"Average."
