"I'm sorry," she whispered, gently touching its pale yellow stamen.
The little flower swayed in response, as if conversing with her. A sudden wave of guilt washed over her. Aside from adding water and moving it to the windowsill for some sun when she was home, she hadn't been very attentive to this life-saving flower. She had been so busy before—whether trapped in the Xuanyuan Gulun or traveling the Yin Yang Road as a mere mortal—that she had simply left it to fend for itself.
Yet, in her moments of despair, the occasional glimpse of this little flower seemed to give her the hope and courage to persevere. Now, as she gazed at this tiny plant—one that survived in the human world by an unlikely dependence on demon blood—an idea suddenly sparked in Xin Huohuo's mind.
