The improved female villains regained their memories.

Having followed Su Murong for so long, Xiao Zhuque was inevitably influenced by her nature. Over the years, she hadn't learned anything else, but she had learned some shameless tricks.

The human and the demon walked towards the woodshed, intending to prepare dinner for the evening. As they walked, Little Vermilion Bird suddenly noticed blood on Su Murong's arm and tugged at her sleeve: "Master..."

Su Murong stopped and looked at her: "Hmm?"

"Your sleeve..."

Su Murong looked at it, raised his hand to cover it, and after a moment, the layer of bloodstains disappeared: "It's alright."

"My lord, you went again?"

"unimportant."

"My lord, you..."

Before Little Vermilion Bird could finish speaking, Su Murong interrupted her: "Shh."

She held up her finger, her face serious.

"Never say this here, especially not in front of him."

Little Vermilion Bird nodded, and suddenly a strong sense of sadness welled up inside her.

At the beginning of the year, a plague swept across the world.

Plague has struck the northern border, the western wilderness, the southern prefecture, and the eastern forest.

The plague came suddenly and its cause was unknown. Most absurdly, even immortals could be infected.

Its transmissibility, characteristics, and cause of outbreak are unknown. Some speculate that this plague may be related to the previous collapse of the spiritual spring.

However, Su Murong didn't care how the plague broke out.

She only cared about those infected with the plague.

For example, Yang Pingsheng.

Chapter 174 Memory Recovery

Yang Pingsheng was infected with the plague that broke out at the beginning of the year, probably three months later.

As mentioned above, the spread, characteristics, and cause of the plague are unknown. Even immortals living in the immortal realm could be infected, let alone mortals in other places.

After infection, the whole body feels like it's being bitten by fire ants, causing unbearable pain. Then the skin starts to turn red and itchy, and finally, the person dies in extreme agony.

The reason why the little Vermilion Bird felt sad was not only because of the symptoms of infection, but also because of its antidote. Because its origin was unknown, the immortals had not developed a corresponding antidote, but only a way to delay the infection.

And this method of delaying...

"My lord, New Year's Eve is almost here, what if..."

The Vermilion Bird, one of the Four Symbols of Heaven, represents vigorous vitality. It could clearly sense that Yang Pingsheng's life was hanging by a thread and that he was suffering terribly from the plague.

It then remembered that its master had told it about its mother, and that the master's mother had died on New Year's Eve, which made it have a bad association.

"Don't talk nonsense."

Su Murong's face darkened: "I'll find a way to solve this."

"Lord..."

"Shut up!"

Whenever Yang Pingsheng is involved, their master becomes irritable.

Little Vermilion Bird sighed helplessly and obediently shut up.

Night fell.

Thin wisps of celestial clouds obscured the starry sky, and on Weihan Peak, there was only endless desolation.

Snowflakes fell on the branches, forming a blanket of white. The thatched cottage, enveloped in a magical aura, felt no cold.

Su Murong stood in the courtyard, looking up at the sky, with a blood-red pill spread out in his palm.

She lowered her eyes, clutched the pill, and pushed open the door to enter.

crunch--

The candlelight cast shadows on the wall, and the person she cared about was sitting at the table, fiddling with herbs.

Su Murong's gaze softened. He stepped forward and asked softly, "What are you doing?"

“I’m sorting herbs.” Yang Pingsheng turned to look at her, a smile on his face. “Xiao Que doesn’t want to take my tonics. It might be because I’m using the wrong herbs, so I’d like to change them.”

"Let me take a look for you."

Su Murong drew closer, the boy's presence almost touching hers, their bodies intertwined. The snowlight outside shone in, mirroring the candlelight, indistinguishable from one another.

"You did a great job."

"But……"

"Ok?"

"Maybe I don't have the talent," Yang Pingsheng said dejectedly. "Perhaps I'm not suited to be a doctor."

"That's not true."

"Xiao Rong".

"Ok?"

"I don't want to be a doctor."

"No, you want to."

Su Murong squatted down, looked at Yang Pingsheng sitting in the chair, and took his hand: "Have you forgotten? This is something you've always wanted to do."

His kindness, simplicity, and enthusiasm are as pure as snow.

He had to be a doctor to fit the image of Yang Pingsheng in Su Murong's mind.

"You think so, right?"

A hand bearing a purple mark stroked Yang Pingsheng's head.

Yang Pingsheng immediately squinted his eyes and began to enjoy it, nodding, "Mmm!"

The night is silent.

The little Vermilion Bird, having transformed back into its original form, retreated into its cage. The snow outside was falling heavily, and Yang Pingsheng wanted to see it, so Su Murong led him out of the courtyard.

The two walked hand in hand until they reached the edge of a cliff. The vast, empty mountains were so silent under the snowy night.

Snowflakes fell on Yang Pingsheng's head, and Su Murong watched them and gently brushed them away.

She had so much to say, but in the end she said nothing. Above her, in the cold, lonely wind, was a bottomless abyss. There were only the two of them, the boy and her. Snowflakes danced in the air, just as cold as they had been that year.

Too many unspeakable emotions were tangled together. Su Murong pursed his lips and finally said only, "It's time to take your medicine."

She held the blood-red pill in her hand and handed it to Yang Pingsheng.

Yang Pingsheng frowned slightly: "I don't want to eat it, it doesn't taste good."

"Honey, you'll get better if you take your medicine."

"But……"

"Good boy, eat it."

Even with the mother-child seal still present, Yang Pingsheng remained close to her. As long as he was close to her, she would obey him, so he could only obediently take his medicine.

The blood-red pill emitted a strong fishy smell. Yang Pingsheng pinched his nose and swallowed it. The moment the pill entered his stomach, the fishy smell turned into bitter liquid, making him subconsciously want to vomit.

Su Murong watched him eat, her snow-white eyelashes trembling slightly, and her hands shaking as well.

Feel sorry……

Forgive me...

Forgive my selfishness...

Too many emotions were hidden beneath the white snow. When she saw the boy looking at her, she quickly put on a smile to hide her panic.

"what happened?"

"so bitter."

"If it's bitter, eat some candy. Here, have some..."

She frantically pulled the candy out of her pocket. It was a magical pocket; no matter when, Yang Pingsheng could always see her pull out candy from it.

He took it, put it in his mouth, but didn't taste any sweetness; it was still only bitter.

"It's still so bitter."

"How is that possible? That..."

Su Murong was stunned.

She then remembered that those infected with the plague would become increasingly ill over time. The pain was only the beginning; then, their five senses would gradually fail. When they could no longer see, hear, feel touch, smell, or taste food, they were not far from death.

The blood-red pill was ultimately not an antidote; it could only delay the inevitable. But no matter how much it was delayed, what was bound to happen would still happen, just like Yang Pingsheng now, whose sense of taste had already begun to malfunction.

Su Murong remembered what Little Zhuque had said during the day and couldn't help but feel a little panicked. She grabbed Yang Pingsheng's hand and pointed to a tree on the cliff not far away, asking, "Can you see that?"

"Ah."

"What about the ones above?"

Yang Pingsheng rubbed his eyes: "They're a little blurry."

My heart suddenly turned cold.

No, no, absolutely not! How can we let that happen again?

"Xiao Rong".

Yang Pingsheng reached out and touched her hair: "Are you crying?"

Su Murong didn't speak, but simply pulled the boy into her arms and held him tightly.

The snow kept falling, and it got heavier late at night.

Snowflakes were falling heavily, and the ground was covered with a thick layer of white snow. Su Murong, who had been sleeping, turned over and placed his hand beside him, but he couldn't feel anything.