Chapter 297
Words:939Update:22/06/29 07:43:26
Tired of reading in the room, the other party in the summer? Would she serve a cup of plum blossoms? Soup, a cup of sweet ginger tea in the winter. Her temperament was docile and everything was done properly.
Sometimes, he couldn't help but think.
What if Ling 'er wasn't a girl? A child? A body …
And then? He forced himself to stop thinking.
Between master and disciple, there was no talk of love. This was a Taoist rule.
Perhaps he had been lonely for too long, so his heart throbbed with the companionship of his disciple. This shouldn't be.
Ling 'er was only sixteen or seventeen years old, but he had such thoughts for her. It really shouldn't be.
Thus, he deliberately distanced himself.
Ling 'er seemed to sense it, but she didn't ask.
Only? When he occasionally sat in the study, he would see Ling 'er standing by the door, staring at him with that pair of deep black eyes.
Ling 'er's voice? She was injured by the divine fire.
Similarly? Was it scripture? The big fire in the arcane realm years ago.
Over the years, he had looked for many remedies. For the other party? For treatment. The results were minimal.
He knew that the injuries of the divine fire were difficult to treat.
Just like the scars on his face, he could still feel the burning pain.
He once thought that if he could return to that fire, would he? Instead of helping Rong Ran find that Soul Restoring Pill, he would try his best to save Ling 'er at that time so that Ling' er didn't have to? She suffered from the divine fire injuries that couldn't be cured.
Therefore, he didn't expect that one day, Ling 'er would suddenly be able to speak. Speak.
That voice was hoarse.
It was like the sound of withered branches being crushed in winter. His voice was slow, pausing after every word.
The other party? The first thing he said to him was.
"Master."
He was surprised. He looked up from the book and saw the tall young man standing in front of him. The young man bent down and covered the back of his hand on the page with his palm.
The young man called out in a low voice again.
"… Master."
After the surprise? It was a surprise.
"Ling 'er, you can speak?"
The young man hummed softly and inserted his hand into the man's five fingers.
He didn't feel anything strange? He continued to ask, "How's your voice now? How do you feel? If it's too much, don't force yourself to speak. Rest for a while. We still have a lot of time to slowly nurture your voice … "
The young man looked down at him and said softly, "I really like Master."
His voice stopped abruptly.
He even suspected that he was hallucinating.
If that wasn't the case, how could he have heard his disciple confessing to him?
The young man lowered his body and came closer. His eyes were dark. She stared at him and asked softly, "Am I like this? I like Master, but why has Master … been avoiding me recently? "
The other party? Her breath blew against his cheek. The distance was so close.
He could not answer.
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