Be Like What?

Li Nanzhu could no longer contain her emotions. She swung her hand toward the mirror, stopping abruptly just as her knuckles were about to shatter the surface. Web-like cracks spidered across the glass.

In the fractured reflection, countless Li Nanzhus stared back with the same hollow eyes.

Beside her, Suisui was a flurry of anxiety and concern, shifting its form into various shapes in a desperate attempt to cheer her up.

Looking at it, Li Nanzhu suddenly felt how ridiculous she was. She had been a war correspondent who could keep filing reports on a battlefield even while seeing someone's intestines spill out, yet now she was broken by a single parting like a stray dog.

She couldn't go on like this.

She had already... let them worry about her for far too long.

Her current state was definitely not what her master would want to see. If he knew... Li Nanzhu gave a bitter smile. He would probably be hitting her over the head with his fan again.

"Smile," she told herself.

The corners of her mouth lifted mechanically. The person in the mirror wore a stiff, frozen grin.

It was too fake. She took a deep breath and tried again.

This time, she used her fingertips to push the corners of her mouth upward. She was all too familiar with this action—she had adjusted her expression this way countless times while facing a camera amidst the ruins of Gaza or when confronting amputee children in Syrian hospitals.

The professional smile of a war correspondent had three elements: eyes slightly lowered, the corners of the mouth turned up, and the throat suppressing all sobs.

The smile in the mirror was disgustingly perfect.

Only then did she nod at herself with a smile, as if those nights spent tossing and turning and those pillows soaked with tears had never existed.

Perfect.

She performed a final check on her collar and carefully tucked the green jade fan into her waist.

As she pushed open the door, the morning breeze rushed in, carrying the fresh scent of dew.

In the courtyard, Duan Xianxing was crouching on the stone steps, clutching a few candies from goodness-knows-where, occasionally glancing toward her door. Seeing her emerge, the youth's eyes lit up, and he practically leaped to his feet. "Little Junior Sister! You—"

"Morning, Seventh Senior Brother," she interrupted him with a smile. Her voice was light, though it carried a forced liveliness. "The weather is lovely today, isn't it?"

Duan Xianxing froze, his hand holding the candies suspended in mid-air.

He looked Li Nanzhu up and down, seemingly trying to find a flaw in her perfect smile. But soon, he grinned, revealing his signature canines. "You—you're okay now?"

"What could be wrong with me?" She tilted her head, her hair swaying gently with the movement, her smile never wavering. "I just slept a bit longer than usual the past few days. I'm sorry for making you worry, Senior Brother."

Not far away, Zhu Yinxi leaned against the shadow of the bamboo, his jade flute held to his lips but silent.

His gaze fell heavily upon her face, as if trying to see through this meticulously constructed facade. Li Nanzhu met his eyes, her smile undiminished. "Second Senior Brother, morning."

Zhu Yinxi did not respond. In the morning light, she clearly saw the faint, almost imperceptible furrow between his brows and the flash of worry in his eyes.

He saw through it.

But Li Nanzhu didn't care. She gathered her sleeves and turned toward the martial arts arena.

The morning breeze caught the hem of her robes, making her silhouette look light and carefree. Only she knew that every step felt like walking on knife edges, her entire body wound so tight that it felt as if she would collapse the moment she relaxed even slightly.

Behind her, she heard Duan Xianxing whisper to Zhu Yinxi, "See? I told you Little Junior Sister was fine, didn't I?" Zhu Yinxi offered no reply; only a sigh, nearly silent, dissipated into the morning wind.

At the martial arts arena, Li Nanzhu slowly drew her wooden sword. Since she couldn't use spiritual energy to cultivate, she would practice her swordplay.

Every one of her moves was pinpoint accurate, as if she were pouring all her agony into the edge of the blade.

It continued like this for the next few days. The wooden sword became a blur of light in her hands. Every strike carried the sound of breaking air, exceptionally piercing in the silence of dawn.

"The one hundred and eighth form," she counted under her breath. With a flick of her wrist, the blade traced a perfect arc.

She had repeated this movement thousands of times. The muscle memory was etched into her very marrow, yet she was still dissatisfied. The tip of her sword trembled slightly. She stared at her shaking wrist, a shadow of gloom crossing her eyes.

"Still not fast enough," she gritted her teeth and raised the long sword again.

If only she had been a little stronger back then...

This thought coiled around her heart like a venomous snake.

The frustration of having the light gate snatched away by Cang Dongqing was identical to the despair of watching her master dissipate. She would forever remember that moment—her hand reaching out with all her might, yet unable to catch even a corner of his robes.

"Again."

If she were strong enough...

Sweat dripped from her chin, and Li Nanzhu's vision began to blur, but her movements grew even faster. The basic swordplay transformed into an afterimage in her hands, each move carrying a fierce intensity that bordered on self-abuse.

Does it hurt?

She looked down at her palm. Sweat mixed with blood had stained the sword hilt a dark red. Every swing felt like tearing open a wound, but it was precisely this burning pain that could temporarily suppress the suffocating feeling about to explode in her chest.

It wasn't enough.

What did this tiny bit of pain matter? She needed more. She needed her body to be so exhausted that she couldn't think. That way, when night fell, she wouldn't dream of that fluttering cyan sleeve or hear that gentle whisper telling her that the sky wouldn't fall.

"Keep going." She wiped the sweat from her face and gripped the hilt tight again. Blood slid down the wood, leaving crimson spots on the bluestone floor.

Suisui finally couldn't take it anymore. Its bony claws tugged at her sleeve, its soul fire flickering violently.

Li Nanzhu looked down. The blue fire in the little skeleton's eye sockets shimmered with concern, and its joints let out a soft clicking sound from its agitation.

"I'm fine," she reassured it softly, only to hear footsteps behind her.

"Little Junior Sister." Zhu Yinxi's voice was as cool as ever, yet it held a fraction more warmth than usual.

Li Nanzhu adjusted her expression in an instant. When she turned around, her face already wore that perfect smile. "Second Senior Brother, is something the matter?"

Zhu Yinxi's gaze swept over her blood-stained hands, and his brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. He remained silent for a moment before taking a celadon medicine bottle from his sleeve. "The webbing of your thumb is torn."

Only then did she look down at her wound; the edges were still encrusted with grit.

How strange. She had felt nothing just a moment ago.

"Ah, I didn't notice." She took the medicine bottle nonchalantly. Her fingertips accidentally brushed against Zhu Yinxi's hand, and the icy sensation made her startle slightly. "Thank you."

Zhu Yinxi did not leave immediately.

He stared at Li Nanzhu for a long time. A trace of complex emotion flickered in those eyes that were usually as still as a lake. Li Nanzhu instinctively tensed her back, but her smile remained unshakeable.

"You don't need to be like this," Zhu Yinxi suddenly said. His voice was quiet, yet every word was clear.

Li Nanzhu's smile faltered for a split second before becoming even more radiant. "Be like what?"

Zhu Yinxi did not answer. The sound of a branch snapping came from the distance, and both of them turned their heads. They saw Duan Xianxing poking his head out from behind a tree, looking flustered. He was holding two skewers of candied haws. Seeing he had been spotted, the youth stood there awkwardly, caught between advancing and retreating.

Li Nanzhu waved her injured hand at him, her smile bright. "Seventh Senior Brother, what a coincidence."

Duan Xianxing opened his mouth but ultimately just gripped the skewers tighter and didn't step forward.

They all saw through it.

But they didn't dare to ask.