In the blink of an eye, a full three months had passed since Xiao Mo entered secluded cultivation.
The cool, pleasant days of spring had gradually given way to the growing heat of summer.
Throughout these three months, Xiao Mo remained just as he was when he first entered his meditative state—sitting motionlessly in the courtyard.
If not for his still-rosy complexion and his long, steady breathing,
even Xian Xichun would have started to worry that the young man might perish in his meditative state right there in the bamboo courtyard.
Tushan Jing Ci, for her part, would come to the bamboo grove every day or two to see Xiao Mo.
Each time she visited, Tushan Jing Ci would first go to Cold Mountain City to fetch a jug of good wine and buy some tasty side dishes to bring to Mr. Xian, who stood guard outside the bamboo courtyard.
Although Mr. Xian had said that his help for Xiao Mo stemmed purely from their friendship and had nothing to do with the Tushan Clan,
