I heard you had a white moonlight who died young.

"Oh." Fan Zhiyi wasn't particularly moved. His mind wasn't sharp, and he couldn't think about it any deeper. Having read so many novels, he knew that the rise and fall of cultivation families was commonplace; the cultivation world had always been a ruthless place.

If it weren't for the need to avoid revealing his identity, Fan Zhiyi would have really wanted to continue asking Bing Nandong what Jiu Wanli was, who that sect leader was, and why Bing Nandong had sent people to keep an eye on Jiu Wanli.

For the rest of the journey, Bing Nandong didn't say much, at most introducing the scenery and buildings along the way to Fan Zhiyi. However, there seemed to be few people on this mountain road, and the higher they went, the fewer people there were. In the end, only the sound of their footsteps could be heard.

The wind rustled through the treetops, casting dappled shadows on the ground. The shadows swayed, and the light and shadow, like a fragile dream, scattered and then reformed.

When Fan Zhiyi arrived at Tianyun Gate, he finally felt the warmth of summer. This was a completely different place from Xue Residence and that ghost town. He was wearing too many clothes and it was too hot. Fan Zhiyi loosened his collar and was already sweating. The wind along the way was hot, even on the mountain.

Fan Zhiyi couldn't take it anymore: "Sect Leader, could you loosen your grip a little?"

"why?"

Aren't you hot?

"..." He saw Bing Nandong hesitate for a moment, then say with certainty, "It's hot."

Oh right, the male lead is a ghost, and ghosts don't get hot. Fan Zhiyi let go of his hand: "Then let go."

As soon as Bing Nan Dong relaxed, Fan Zhiyi immediately took off the robe and his original outer robe and draped them over his wrists. He was so hot that he fanned himself with his hand and loosened the collar a little.

Bing Nandong glanced at him, without saying anything, but simply used a spell to make the wind that was blowing in the next breeze cooler. Fan Zhiyi felt much more comfortable, tilted his head back and sighed, letting his hair be blown back.

Bing Nandong looked at his hands, then clenched them and let them go.

Finally, they arrived at their destination, a small courtyard. Fan Zhiyi followed Bing Nandong inside. The first thing they saw was a reclining chair and a stone table in the middle, with a tree behind it and a raised mound of earth under the tree.

He felt like he had seen this scene in his dream.

Fan Zhiyi was stunned for a moment, but since he came to the world of the novel, his dreams have been diverse, ever-changing, and chaotic, and he was afraid that he had misremembered them.

Bing Nandong, who had been carefully observing Fan Zhiyi, naturally noticed his momentary daze and asked calmly, "What's wrong?"

"fine."

Bing Nandong didn't ask any further questions. He walked straight to the mound, his gaze unfathomable, leaving Fan Zhiyi uncertain.

“I once heard a story,” Bing Nandong began to tell himself. “There was a kitten who met a ghost. The ghost was very mean; it would only stay in dark places, baring its teeth and claws to scare the kitten away, not allowing it to come near. But the kitten would always bring flowers to the ghost. Gradually, the ghost began to look forward to the kitten’s arrival. But it forgot that it was a ghost, a ghost that would bring misfortune. Finally, one day, the kitten died in an accident, and the ghost stepped into the sunlight, feeling the warmth of the sun for the first and last time, the same warmth as the flowers the kitten had given it.”

It was a tragic story. Fan Zhiyi frowned. He didn't really like listening to tragedies. After all, life was already bitter enough. You always had to add some sweetness to your life, otherwise how could you find the courage to keep living?

Bing Nandong smiled gently, turned his head, and his gaze fell on Fan Zhiyi's face again: "The story is over. How did you feel?"

"If the ending is that the kitten also becomes a spirit, then this time it can stay with the ghost forever, that would be great."

"..."

"If the kitten really becomes a ghost, but can't find its old friends, it will be very sad."

"This is a story."

“Yes, it’s a story. What’s wrong with me changing the ending?” Fan Zhiyi felt he made a lot of sense. A thousand people have a thousand Hamlets. He respected the original work. He just fantasized about giving the characters a better ending to make himself happier. What’s wrong with that?

"If you were this kitten, would you blame the ghost for bringing you misfortune?"

The protagonist is clearly very concerned, so could this story have some special meaning? The questions seem to be a test: "Unless the other person has done something bad to me, I don't believe that one person is destined to bring misfortune to another."

"Is it?"

"Yes." His answer was positive and encouraging, didn't it? Did it even touch the male lead's heart?

Unexpectedly, Bing Nandong abruptly changed the subject, not continuing the previous topic: "Have you heard this story before?"

Fan Zhiyi shook his head, and Bing Nandong smiled again, deliberately putting on a smug look, but Fan Zhiyi felt that he was sad.

Bing Nandong replied, "Of course you haven't heard of it, because I made it up. It's unique and one of a kind."

Fan Zhiyi: "..."

"However, there is indeed a kitten here. Its name is Nanshan, and its nickname is Xiaohei. The person who named it hoped that it would live a long and healthy life. It has been sleeping for a long time, probably about twenty years."

"it……"

"It has always been here, right in front of the courtyard gate, waiting for its owner to return."

Bing Nandong's dark eyes reflected Fan Zhiyi's face. Fan Zhiyi's breath suddenly became heavy, as if a large stone was pressing on his chest, making it difficult to breathe. What followed was a fine, dense pain that started from the very tip of his heart.

Something flashed through his mind, and he frowned, trying desperately to recall it, but he couldn't quite grasp it.

Fan Zhiyi felt like his head was going to explode, shaking his head and feeling dizzy.

A cat, a black cat, and a boy with a ponytail...

Everything they had in the Xue residence originated from there.

Fan Zhiyi's thoughts suddenly cleared, as if a thread was slowly connecting them. His scalp tingled and his heart trembled.

Suddenly, a hand landed on his head and gently rubbed it. Bing Nandong seemed to say nothing, yet it was as if he had said everything.

Fan Zhiyi blinked painfully, his body covered in a layer of cold sweat, sticky and uncomfortable. That's how it is in summer; you sweat as soon as you move.

The headache subsided somewhat and wasn't as painful anymore, but thanks to Bing Nandong's interruption, the little bit of inspiration Fan Zhiyi had managed to muster was nipped in the bud, and even the few things he remembered vanished. His conversation with Bing Nandong after entering the courtyard also became vague.

Why does he have a headache? Is he suffering from heatstroke?

"My headache is a chronic problem. Um, what were we talking about just now?" Fan Zhiyi hesitated for a moment. The feeling of not being able to remember was too unpleasant, and he still wanted to ask clearly.

"You've already forgotten?"

"I'm getting old, and my memory isn't what it used to be."