I heard you had a white moonlight who died young.

Fan Zhiyi heard someone humming softly in his ear. The voice was gentle, and his turbulent heart gradually calmed down. He slowly opened his eyes and looked to the side, where he saw a silver mask.

The singing stopped, and Fan Zhiyi heard the person breathe a sigh of relief. The hand that had been holding his wrist and channeling spiritual energy into him tightened its grip, as if Fan Zhiyi would disappear if it let go.

As his senses gradually returned, Fan Zhiyi realized he was sweating a lot and felt uncomfortable. He wanted to take a shower, but his body was still not fully mobile.

Bing Nandong asked, "Your spirit was unstable just now, and you seemed to have left your body. What did you dream about?"

Fan Zhiyi thought for a moment, then his head started to ache again: "I can't remember."

Bing Nandong remained silent, so Fan Zhiyi asked him, "What were you singing just now?" His voice still sounded very weak.

"The Requiem for the Soul".

"How scary, how awful."

Bing Nandong: "..."

Fan Zhiyi heard him hum softly and couldn't help but smile. The first thing he did after regaining consciousness was to grab Bing Nandong's hand and hold it. He didn't know why, but Fan Zhiyi just wanted to do that.

Bing Nandong stared at him silently, while Fan Zhiyi closed his eyes again: "Do you have any cleaning techniques? Give me one."

Bing Nandong didn't speak, but Fan Zhiyi felt instantly refreshed. Then, he realized something and glared at Bing Nandong: "If you know this, why were you rushing to change my clothes just now! A simple cleaning spell would have been so much easier!"

Bing Nandong said, "For no reason, I just want to."

Good grief, they're not even bothering to come up with a reason. Fan Zhiyi turned his head away: "I have nightmares when I sleep. If you're not used to it, then leave."

"I won't leave. I will watch over you every moment from now on."

As Bing Nandong spoke, his tone became slower and his voice became more suppressed and low, giving Fan Zhiyi a chilling feeling of being haunted by a vengeful ghost.

Isn't it just an evil spirit, a vengeful ghost?

Fan Zhiyi shivered and wrapped himself tightly in the blanket: "Forget it."

"If you can't remember something, don't force yourself to think about it," Bing Nandong said.

Fan Zhiyi didn't respond, but through their clasped hands, he could sense Bing Nandong's thoughts: "She called Xue Xiuniang, she called Ayu, and she called my name, but after waking up, she can't remember anything."

Who are these people? Apart from Bing Nandong, he doesn't recognize any of them. Fan Zhiyi began to recall his dream, but those memories were as if they were tightly wrapped in a thick cloth, and he couldn't remember them at all. Moreover, hidden under this thick cloth were sharp needles, and it hurt when he touched them.

Fortunately, after that one night, Fan Zhiyi stopped thinking about those dreams, and for the time being, he didn't experience any more episodes of his soul leaving his body at night. However, he remembered those two names and was waiting for an opportunity to find out who they were and what their relationship was with Bing Nandong's former "white moonlight."

Furthermore, Bing Nan Dong has become more attentive to his cultivation, which has resulted in Fan Zhi Yi feeling strong, healthy, and refreshed in just a few days, with his cultivation level rapidly increasing.

He has now fully mastered the basic techniques, and Bing Nandong even praised him for his extraordinary talent. Although he didn't know how much of that was just flattery, Fan Zhiyi was quite happy to be praised. Moreover, with the progress of his cultivation and Bing Nandong's help in repairing his physique, he has not experienced any stiffness or inability to move his limbs recently.

However, this body was still very weak, seemingly congenital, and prone to illness. Yesterday's torrential rain had caused Fan Zhiyi to catch a cold again. That day, Bing Nandong exempted him from his cultivation and moved his official duties to Fan Zhiyi's room to stay by his side.

Fan Zhiyi woke up groggily from his fever. It must have been night. All the candles around him were lit, which gave him a sense of security. The person guarding him had changed to the leader of the Fucha Sect.

Fan Zhiyi: "..." Does this person have to be so meticulous? Is he split personality? He's the cult leader at night and the sect leader during the day.

As soon as he woke up, the cult leader noticed him and hurriedly brought him a glass of water: "Would you like some water?"

"Where is Cen Jun?" He asked, only to find that his voice was terribly hoarse and sounded like a duck quacking.

The two spoke in unison, then fell silent.

When Fan Zhiyi saw Bing Nandong narrow his eyes, he looked away guiltily. Then he thought to himself, "Damn, what is he guilty about?"

He drank the water from Bing Nandong's hand and explained, "I had official business to attend to, so I left." Then he sneered, "He is indeed the beacon of righteousness in the cultivation world. In his heart, official business is more important than you. But I am different. I only care about you."

Fan Zhiyi: "..." What good does it do you to insult yourself like this?

Seeing that Fan Zhiyi did not answer, Bing Nandong's anger intensified. Although he did not make a big deal out of consideration for Fan Zhiyi's recent recovery from a serious illness, he could not swallow this grievance: "Besides... in what way am I inferior to him?"

Fan Zhiyi sighed, not wanting to waste words while he was sick: "They are all comparable."

Bing Nan Dong: "..." Still very unhappy.

Fan Zhiyi opened his eyes again to look at him, then his eyelids drooped weakly again. He had already been given the daily pill by Bing Nandong, who was the sect leader, and the sect leader had also done the body conditioning in one go. Bing Nandong wouldn't be such a beast as to pester him again tonight, would he?

Just as Fan Zhiyi finished thinking this, his lips were gently pressed together, and Bing Nandong whispered in his ear, "This way, the illness will pass to me, and you'll recover faster." He held Fan Zhiyi's hand very tightly.

Fan Zhiyi couldn't help but ask him, "Can ghosts get sick too? I'm already feeling really uncomfortable with this cold, so please don't pass on your ghostly energy to me."

He had read many novels, most of which talked about how spending too much time with ghosts was not good, leading to lethargy, neurasthenia, and bad luck.

Bing Nandong: "...You're energetic again, aren't you?"

"No, no, I'm going to sleep."

Seemingly hearing Bing Nandong snort coldly, clearly displeased, Fan Zhiyi couldn't help but want to laugh for no reason. If his head hadn't been so dizzy, he would have actually wanted to say a few more words to Bing Nandong.

After a moment of silence, Fan Zhiyi, in his drowsy state, heard Bing Nandong calling him again.

"Zhiyi, Zhiyi..." he cried out again and again, filled with deep fear and anxiety.

Fan Zhiyi couldn't tell whether this was his true feeling or Bing Nandong was really calling his real name.

That must have been his true feeling, since Bing Nan Dong had never called him that publicly.

Fan Zhiyi didn't understand why Bing Nandong was taking a minor fever so seriously. Then, he heard a gentle male voice in his ear, and Bing Nandong hummed a song to him. The tune was familiar, and he remembered that Bing Nandong had said it was a requiem.