With reluctant gentleness, Mo Xing guided her to the bathroom after she insisted she could stand, his towering presence softened as he matched his pace to her faltering steps, his hand steady at her elbow.
Behind the closed door, Li Hua took a moment to refresh herself, studying her reflection in the mirror. Her fingers trembled slightly as she cupped her hands and allowed spirit water's to fill them, watching the liquid shimmer.
She drank deeply, desperately, as if trying to quench a thirst that went beyond physical need. Again and again she filled her hands, drinking until her stomach protested its fullness, but still the thirst remained—as if her very soul was parched from being scattered across realities.
She felt her energy returning to her and the pain gradually subsiding.
When she came out of the bathroom, Mo Xing was already lounging on her bed holding a small bowl of brown liquid that smelled exactly as unpleasant as it looked.
