Upon entering the pavilion, Qi Yuan found the four walls bare and simple, with an ancient charm. Apart from a single meditation cushion, there was no other furnishing.

On the cushion sat a young girl, appearing to be around fourteen or fifteen, dressed in palace attire. Her skin was as white as snow, her features delicate, and her aura pure. Her long, narrow eyes were a striking shade of crimson gold, and a mystical rhythm that seemed to nurture all things flowed around her, like a gentle rain shower, full of vitality and vigor.

Just standing there, Qi Yuan felt as if he were bathed in a spring breeze, comfortable and at ease, as if all his fatigue and worldly concerns had been swept away.

At this moment, the girl's starry eyes lowered slightly, casting a faint glance at Qi Yuan, who stood not far in front of her.