Miss Witch, even if we're poor, we can't sell ourselves!

When Mi Ye woke up again, moonlight was pouring in through the gaps in the blinds, bathing the entire ward in a gentle silver-blue hue.

The air conditioner vents emitted a soft whooshing sound, and the occasional sound of a nurse's trolley rolling over the floor echoed in the corridor before falling silent again.

She blinked and was fully awake in less than a second.

My condition is better than ever before.

I gently moved my fingers, feeling the power coming from my fingertips.

A body with all attributes exceeding 100 is indeed different; even breathing feels as refreshing as drinking an iced drink, and every inch of the scene in one's field of vision is incredibly clear.

Then she saw Flores lying by the bed.

The owner of Nightingale's Nest had moved from the chair to the bedside at some point, probably wanting to get closer to observe Miya's condition. However, he couldn't resist the drowsiness and simply fell asleep on the edge of the bed.

Her face was resting on her crossed arms, her long, black hair spread out, covering half of the bed sheet, shimmering like satin in the moonlight.

The sleeves of the dark gray knitted cardigan slid down to her elbows, revealing her slender wrists and a delicate silver bracelet.

Her breathing was light, her lips were slightly pursed, and her brows were furrowed a little more unconsciously than when she was awake, as if she was worried about something even in her dreams.

The store manager has been watching over her for several days in a row.

Miya stared at Flores' sleeping face for a while, then made a decision.

She slid off the bed quietly, her bare feet touching the cool floor. She bent down, slipped one hand under Flores' knees, and supported her back with the other, carefully lifting her up.

Her physical constitution is now over 100, so lifting an adult witch is as easy for her as lifting a stack of books.

Flores stirred in her arms, murmured something in a daze, then turned her head, resting her forehead on Miya's shoulder, and fell into a deep sleep again.

Miya held her breath, placed Flores on the hospital bed, pulled the blanket over her, and tucked the corner of the blanket under her chin, just like Flores had done for her before.

Then she stood by the bed for a while, making sure that Flores hadn't been woken up, before letting out a silent sigh of relief.

Sleep well, shopkeeper.

The moonlight was so bright that the whole room didn't need any lights on.

Miya suddenly didn't want to stay in the ward anymore.

She lay in bed for three whole days; her bones felt like they were rusting.

So she found the slippers the hospital had given her in the corner, put on the coat draped over the back of the chair, and quietly turned the doorknob and left the ward.

The corridor was quiet, with half of the incandescent lights off, and only the nightlights above the baseboards emitting a faint blue glow.

At the nurses' station, a nurse on duty was writing something with her head down. Hearing footsteps, she looked up and gave her a "hello" gesture. The nurse recognized her, nodded, and then lowered her head to continue working.

The elevator window was open, and the night breeze blew in, causing her short hair to flutter gently.

She pressed the down button, stepped into the empty elevator, and leaned against the handrail, watching the floor numbers jump down one by one.

Five, four, three, two, one.

Ding, the door opened.

The lobby on the first floor was empty, the registration window was closed with its roller shutter, and only the vending machines were still emitting a cold, fluorescent blue light.

Miya pushed open the glass door of the hall and walked into the garden.

A night breeze swept over me.

The air was filled with the sweet, earthy scent of soil and the fresh fragrance of plants, mixed with a hint of the disinfectant smell unique to hospitals. However, the smell was diluted by the night breeze outdoors, which made the floral fragrance even more distinct.

She followed the scent of flowers, walked past a clump of shrubs trimmed into round shapes, past a row of benches, and then saw the tree.

During the day, she could only see it through the window. Now, she stood under the tree, and the jacaranda was swaying gently in the night breeze. The moonlight gilded each flower with a silver edge, and the purple clusters spread out like a dream against the silvery background.

The petals were blown down by the wind, swirling down one after another, landing on the stone path, on the bushes, and on the bench under the tree.

A young girl was sitting in the chair.

Her long white hair shimmered with a faint silver glow under the moonlight, and the hem of her white nightgown fluttered gently in the night breeze.

She sat in her wheelchair, her head tilted back slightly, her eyes closed, as if she were feeling the night breeze on her face.

Miya stopped in her tracks.

The moment she saw March Summer, a feeling she had never experienced before welled up in her chest.

She didn't know this girl at all, but the moment she saw her, she felt like she owed her something.

It's a bit like sadness, and a bit like joy. It's like being lost in a completely unfamiliar city for a whole day, and then suddenly seeing a window with a warm yellow light around a corner. It's completely indescribable.

March Summer seemed to sense something, so she tilted her head, her eyelashes fluttering slightly, like a white kitten catching the sound of falling leaves in the distance, and then turned her face towards Miya.

Her eyes were misty, her irises like slates that hadn't dried after a spring rain, quiet and gentle.

She smiled gently in Miya's direction.

"Good evening."

The sound was very soft, like painting with sound.

"That's the girl who sang to me," Miya recognized her immediately.

Miya opened her mouth, wanting to say thank you for singing to me, wanting to say that your voice is so beautiful, I feel like I've heard it somewhere before.

But she didn't say anything, because the moonlight shone on San Yuexia's face, and she suddenly realized that this girl was even more beautiful than she had imagined.

Like the first snow falling on a lake before it melts, like the first ray of sunlight in the morning shining through the stained glass windows of a church onto a stone floor, like an angel who accidentally wandered into the wrong place and landed under a jacaranda tree in the world.

Miya's ear tips began to heat up.

She looked up at the lowest branch overhead, stood on tiptoe, and reached out to touch it.

The jacaranda branches were taller than she had imagined. She stood on tiptoe until her toes almost cramped, and her fingertips barely touched the calyx of the flower.

She bit her lower lip, straightened her body, pinched the flower stem with her fingers, and gently broke it off.

Then the jacaranda blossomed in her palm.

When she picked it, the flower was only half open, with the edges of the petals slightly closed, but as soon as it touched her palm, all the petals unfolded in an instant.

The thin purple petals curled outwards from the stamen as if under a fast-forward spell, each petal stretching out to the most perfect arc, its color richer than any other flower on the tree, closer to the edge of the twilight sky at dusk.

A tiny drop of nectar even oozed from the tip of the flower's stamen, glistening in the moonlight and emitting a sweet fragrance.

Miya stared at the flower in her hand that had inexplicably bloomed, her mind going blank.

Her flesh and blood magic has such a high concentration of life force that even a slight touch can cause a half-open flower to bloom instantly.

What's this? A walking fertilizer body?

She shook off the strange thought from her mind, took a deep breath, took a step forward, bent down, and gently placed the jacaranda blossom in March Summer's palm.

March Summer's fingers tightened slightly, pausing when her fingertips touched the petals, then she gently stroked the edges of the petals, as if trying to identify their shape with her fingers.

A soft smile appeared on her face.

"Purple."

March Summer whispered.

Miya was stunned for a moment.

How did you know?

"It smells purple."

In March, Xia brought the flower to her nose and closed her eyes.

"It's cool, a little bitter, and then a little sweet."

Mi's heart was beating faster and faster for no reason. The angle at which San Yuexia turned her head slightly in the moonlight made her feel as if something had gently bumped into her heart.

No, I can't handle it.

This scene is too unfair.

She stomped her hospital slippers on the floor with a series of loud thuds, then turned and ran away without saying a word.

He ran through the bushes, past the vending machines, into the elevator, and after the elevator doors closed, he pressed his forehead against the cold metal wall, covered his burning cheeks with both hands, and let out a muffled groan.

Miya, you're so cuddly!

Someone sang for you for three days, and you didn't even say thank you. You just picked a flower, gave it to them, and ran away.

How embarrassing, so incredibly embarrassing.

But the image of the white-haired angel sitting under the jacaranda tree was etched into her mind like a brand.

tomorrow.

I must go and thank them properly tomorrow.

Miya blushed as she thought this.