"Head back," Wei Xiren ordered, suppressing the grief in her heart; as she was about to rise, Xie Qianbing, chained and in her embrace, shifted. She reached out, about to grab the short dao at Wei Xiren's waist, and Qi Shou'an, who'd been watching the entire time, startled, rushing to stop her, but Wei Xiren's gaze halted her. The dao fell to the ground with a clang, and a wan, shaking hand reached out towards it. Xie Qianbing had held a brush for many years, and a layer of callouses had arisen on her fingers from the brush's handle. The typically easy, effortless motion in this moment took a long, long time for Xie Qianbing to complete. Her hand trembled the entire time, as if she were fighting with something. Finally, she grasped the short dao, bringing its blade to the nape of her own neck. Wei Xiren finally saw something, and, in a rush, cupped her cheek. "You're still awake, aren't you? Can you hear what I'm saying?" Xie Qianbing...