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Lady Three had a dream.
In her dream, she was a small, round, chubby spirit, drifting upward like a balloon, floating aimlessly into the sky. As she drifted higher, she became more and more hazy, and so did her thoughts. It was as if she were about to dissolve into the wind.
A cloud floated by. When her head bumped into it, she surprisingly found herself failing to pass through it.
Lady Three touched her round head. It did not hurt. She grumbled softly, clambering onto the cloud and flopping down onto it. It was soft and cozy, like lying on a cushion.
She was about to fall asleep…
Deep down, she vaguely understood what was going on—whether drifting away on the wind or succumbing to sleep, it all meant she was gravely injured, on the brink of death.
That so-called cloud was Zhao Changhe’s medicine and Rejuvenation Art, keeping her soul from dissipating and helping it become more substantial.
But at the moment, her mind was not focused on such things. She simply wanted to sleep. She felt so tired.
It felt like there was nothing left to worry about. While...
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