Deep crystalline eyes concentrated their full attention on Bai Qingyue's blazing golden pair. The sudden intensity of Li Meirong's stare made him second-guess his wife's naiveté. He wondered, more than a little anxiously, if he had perhaps underestimated her a little too much…

For a moment, he received the impression of her dark orbs staring into the depths of his soul, unveiling his innermost thoughts and self as if peeling away all his layers.

The candles flickered simultaneously, as if on cue, enhancing Li Meirong's enigmatic visage and making it even more difficult for Bai Qingyue to guess her thoughts. And then, a moment later, the sharp light in her eyes was gone. She blinked, just once, and her lips stretched into a faint but pleasant smile. Her dimples peeked out from the sides of her mouth.

The fear he traced in her scent evaporated, and her quick heartbeat stabilized. If not for his keen senses, Bai Qingyue would not have noticed. He lingered a second longer to double check her reaction, but tossed out the idea he had formed. He must have imagined it. Li Meirong trusted "Snowball" implicitly, after all.

He indulged in the sight of her beauty, captivated, and considered the possibility of her possessing some kind of power that bewitched him due to his curse. Otherwise, how would it be possible for her scent to be so pleasing? For her skin to look so soft, and for her lips to seem so inviting?

"Ah, so that's what happened." Li Meirong suddenly said and curled the fingers of one hand into a fist, tapping it against the other palm, as if to emphasize a point. "Well, at least it's just a few mosquito bites. Nowhere near as bad as the scars I had before. Not that they've really disappeared, but it's easy enough to maintain my skin with the medicinal herbs available in the sect."

She snorted a little at her own words, though she truly did mean what she said.

Forget power, greatness, or immortality. Even the most inattentive observer could see that most of her seniors – and fellow disciples – cared more for their looks and the maintenance of their youthful appearance than anything else.

It was much like the society she used to live in. If a person was unattractive, without prestige, or dared to deviate from the standards dictated by the cultural norm, they would inevitably be frowned upon and belittled.

It was no different in the sect. The same sort of discriminating mindset was just as rampant as it had been in her past life.

No wonder it was so rare to find a plain looking cultivator. If a person could hone their physique to perfection, of course they would choose to do so.

Luckily for Li Meirong, maintaining one's beauty was fairly easy to accomplish as a sect disciple, even for an outer sect disciple such as herself, who was no better than a servant, and was not granted the knowledge needed to practice cultivation. This was because almost everything in the sect was enriching, nourishing both body and soul. From the wild herbs growing in every field, to the spirit infused materials available everywhere. In fact, even the very air in Forgotten Waters was beneficial to an individual's health.

The effects of Li Meirong's medicinal brew were reaching their yearly expiration date, and she was beginning to contemplate whether or not it would be more beneficial for her to leave her face untouched. And furthermore, if she had the courage to do so...

It was of utmost importance for cultivators to present an 'elegant air'. Her facial disfigurement would mean that, once again, her unusual appearance would become too eye catching.

More than standing out for whichever reason, Li Meirong much preferred blending in with the crowd, as to not invite any unwanted attention onto herself. She hated being in the spotlight more than anything, and yet, it always seemed to happen to her.

On the other hand, Li Meirong's reputation as a furnace – and the burden placed upon her by the upcoming martial arts tournament – meant she was bound to draw attention. At this point, if she became 'ugly' again, the probability of her fellow disciples losing interest in her was high.

The prospect of a life free from the attentions of concubine seeking men was quite appealing.

While Li Meirong pondered on the hypocrisy shared between her current realm and her original one, Bai Qingyue focused on her earlier comment. He made a show of childlike interest and curiosity as he did so.

"What scars? What do you mean, 'they haven't disappeared'?" he asked.

He reached out, rubbing a calloused yet padded paw across her cheek. "It's as smooth as an eggshell!" he exclaimed.

Li Meirong smiled, cupping the cub's paw in her palms and placing it back on her lap.

"It's a long story," she explained. "Suffice to say, I woke one day in a brothel, with gaps in my memory and a face full of scars. It was as though someone had drizzled boiling oil on me. After I joined the sect, a friend of mine gave me some special, rare medicine to mend the disfigurement, but it's only a temporary effect. I have to make the same brew once a year to maintain my skin, or my scars will return…" Luckily she now grew the herbs needed in her garden, with year-round availability.

Bai Qingyue's fox eyes darkened to caramel, and his pupils sharpened into deadly slits as he listened. This 'friend' of hers? He could speculate as to who that might be.

The thought of Li Meirong relying on another man made him feel greatly disturbed. He felt as if a cat's claws were scratching his heart, making it itch uncomfortably. He wanted her to depend on him and only him. He was her husband, her fated partner. He should be the only man she would choose to rely on, the mountain she could lean on.