In the icy cave-manor, Anna Yang sat quietly in plain white robes, as still as a stone statue. Her gaze was dim, utterly devoid of spirit.
"Nathan, will you help me?"
There was no wind in the cave-manor; apart from the circulating arrays, there was nothing here. Everything—even time itself—seemed frozen.
She dipped her fingertip into the cup of tea, now gone cold, and touched it to the smooth stone table.
The tea stain slowly spread outward.
"Will he, or won't he?" She tilted her head and pondered for a long time, but could not arrive at an answer.
More than six hundred years had left little mark on her body, yet all the memories within had gradually faded away.
The whole world had become hazy, leaving only pure, unbroken waiting. Whether this waiting held any meaning—even she, at this moment, could no longer say.
After a long while, she pressed her lips together and smiled faintly.
"Even if Nathan is willing to help, will he come?"
After more than six hundred years, tears that had long run dry suddenly welled up again.
"Why... why must it always wait until I send someone to urge him? Can't he ever take the initiative, just once?"
She covered her lips, smiling as tears fell one by one, dropping onto the cold stone table.
Even the last trace of warmth in her heart was slowly ebbing away.
......
Step by step, Clara Heart walked up to the table and reached for the hairpin. Nathan Young quickly opened his mouth to stop her, but at that moment, Clara’s hand halted in midair and her gaze slowly drifted toward Nathan.
With just a glance, Nathan was startled, quickly shut his mouth, and looked around nervously, pretending nothing was amiss. Perhaps out of guilt, cold sweat had already begun to bead on his forehead.
Clara Heart beamed, sighing softly: "This hairpin looks like a fine piece. It’s seen some years, but the style is quite nice. Whose is it?"
Nathan said nothing, but unconsciously shifted his feet to the side.
Clara Heart brought the hairpin close to her eyes for a careful look, then waved it in front of the little Aiden Chen she was holding in one arm. With a playful smile, she asked, "Aiden, tell Sister—where did this hairpin come from? Is it your mother's?"
Aiden shook his head, his eyes cautiously darting toward his father, who was huddled in the corner. Despite his young age, he seemed to sense that something was wrong.
Ian Liu’s eyes flickered nervously.
Following Aiden’s gaze, Clara Heart also turned to look at Ian Liu.
Clara’s gaze toward Aiden was full of affection, but in the brief moment her eyes shifted, a sharpness suddenly appeared.
At that look, Ian Liu was startled. He glanced at Nathan, saw Nathan avoiding eye contact, and could only wave his hand and whisper, "Go ahead, it’s fine. Aiden, tell Sister."
Aiden’s big eyes darted about, then he whispered, "It... it was given to Dad by an immortal from Mount Hua."
"Oh? An immortal from Mount Hua?" Clara Heart glanced at Nathan, whose face was already red, and asked meaningfully, "And what’s the immortal’s name?"
"Aiden doesn’t know."
"Does your dad know?"
Aiden didn’t answer, only lowered his head and nervously rubbed his hands, occasionally glancing up at Clara Heart with a pitiful look.
Clara Heart let her smile fade, stretched lazily, and set Aiden Chen down.
As soon as he was released, Aiden rushed toward Ian Liu, leaping into his father's arms. He turned his head, eyes wide with vigilance, glancing back and forth between Clara Heart and Nathan Young.
Nathan still stood motionless, his face flushed and at a loss for what to do.
Clara Heart clasped her hands behind her back and paced twice around the tiny clay house, then asked leisurely, "Will he talk, or will you?"
At this, Nathan grew angry and snapped, "This has nothing to do with you. Why are you meddling? Even arrogance has its limits!"
Clara Heart rolled her eyes on the spot, then turned and pointed at Ian Liu: "You talk. I guarantee you’ll be fine."
"You!"
"If you won’t speak, I’ll have him do it—what’s the problem?" Clara Heart said leisurely. "What were you just about to do? Tamper with his memory? With your meager Traveler’s Path skills, touching his memory will only cause confusion. At best, he’ll become a fool; at worst, he’ll die. That would leave a bedridden elderly mother and a five-year-old child... Tsk tsk, a good family ruined by the Third Prince’s meddling—surely a recipe for disaster. If I, Clara Heart, step in to save them, is that not allowed?"
Nathan slammed his Flame Spear to the floor, glaring furiously at Clara Heart.
His chest was heaving with rage.
After a long moment of staring at Nathan, Clara Heart asked expressionlessly, "Do you think what I’m doing is wrong?"
"Do you think it’s right?"
"I don’t know if it’s right or wrong. Since it’s unclear, why not bring it before the High Sky Throne Hall and argue it out together?"
At these words, Nathan’s eyes widened sharply, his grip on the Flame Spear so tight it creaked.
He was burning with rage.
But no matter how angry he was, what could he do? Clara Heart had caught him red-handed—if she really made it public, would he let everyone know?
After a long stare, Nathan finally gave up and looked away from Clara Heart. "It was Sister Anna Yang who asked him to find me, to ask me for a favor. But I didn’t agree. That’s all there is to it. Is it really necessary to make a fuss? If this blows up, it’s no skin off my nose—I didn’t agree anyway. But my second brother might be in trouble. He’s done nothing to you—why push this?"
Clara Heart grinned playfully. "So, what exactly did she want you to do?"
"Nothing important."
"If it’s nothing important, what was it?"