During this period of time.
Lin Fan had made several attempts to communicate with the Little Sun—cooking delicious food, telling stories, gifting dolls. In the end, all efforts proved futile, leaving him utterly hopeless.
It seemed better to wait until the Ancient Ring suppressed the Little Sun's unruly aura, and then have a proper conversation with it.
Talking now was completely pointless.
It was like throwing oil and water at a dry pot—it just wouldn't mix.
Me, such a friendly person, how could I not be welcome? He seriously suspected that the Little Sun was doing this on purpose. Secretly, it was probably thrilled, but perhaps it acted so harshly toward him because it was too shy.
Hmm.
That sounded highly plausible.
Lin Fan was strolling around the sect when a figure suddenly caught his attention.
"Qingyao, it's been over a year. How have you been lately?"
