Chapter 142: Surprise Palace Rebellion

The woman had not seen moonlight for twenty years.

Her clothes were tattered, revealing a coarse red in the dim light. The sword she carried was incredibly thin and light, like a long dagger. Her body was equally light, as if floating in an illusory sea. As she swept past, the air vibrated, leaving a ripple-like trail, like a long tail feather.

She often believed that a woman's hatred was the easiest kindling to ignite.

Clutching her sword, the scene she had dreamt of countless times reappeared in her mind.

It was late at night, in an old mansion engulfed in a raging fire. An overturned bronze-glazed oil bottle, broken railings, a pond swallowed by flames, soldiers wielding man-high shields, and a giant, bearded leader like a small mountain, guarding the main gate, tilting his head back, drinking heavily from a wine gourd.

This was the nightmare she couldn't escape. In it, an Asura clad in heavy armor walked towards her, his slowly advancing figure engulfing the soaring flames of the mansion. The broad sword in his hand still dripped blood, and the little girl hiding in the corner didn't know if it was her father's, mother's, or that of other family members or servants.

She was too terrified to speak, her heart feeling as if it were filled with ice. A slight clench would send a chill piercing through her, paralyzing her entire body.

She stared at him with wide eyes, wanting to beg for mercy, but no words would come out. Besides, the person before her was an Asura demon. How could a demon understand human words?

That was a night she would never forget, the great fire painting the sky red.

Amidst the sounds of fighting and screams, the demon walking towards her was clearly an incompetent one. He stared at her with wide eyes, and perhaps reminded of his own daughter, merely drew his blade across her face, leaving a scar, then continued on his way.

After the killer had gone, she, on the verge of suffocating from tension, finally exhaled. She sprinted towards the study, opened an old painting, pressed herself against it, causing the wall to pivot, and ran into a secret passage.

Then she saw that the secret passage was also lined with many corpses.

It turned out the enemies had already found this place. Among the corpses were her father's, mother's, and her brothers'—they had originally intended to abandon her and flee for their lives, but had instead fled to the underworld first.

Dark figures still seemed to be moving in the distance. She herself couldn't tell if she was feigning death or had truly fainted, but she collapsed into a pool of blood.

She didn't know how long it had been when she woke up. She discovered that her valuables, and those on the surrounding corpses, had been plundered. Her being mistaken for dead was a stroke of luck she could barely imagine.

She then followed the secret passage out, cried for a long time in the wilderness, and survived through immense effort. Years later, she painstakingly sought out a 'Seeker of Immortals' and was fortunate enough to be chosen by one at first sight, entering the Sword Heavenly Sect.

Her talent surpassed everyone's imagination. In her early twenties, she reached the Longevity Upper Realm. Had it not been for Lu Jiajia emerging over a decade later, she would have been the most talented female disciple in the history of Sky Cavern Peak, and was even once considered a potential new Peak Master.

But she ultimately made a fatal mistake.

After entering the Longevity Upper Realm, her desire for revenge became too urgent.

During those twenty years of cultivation, she hid her hatred exceptionally well. She was docile and sensible, though the half-mask she wore to conceal her scar made that docility somewhat unsettling.

Yet she was truly obedient, never defying her master's wishes. Even when her master became a sword-crazed recluse, an enemy to nearly the entire peak, she did not leave. All her efforts were for the great fire ingrained in her memory.

She secretly investigated many things, finally clarifying the full story of what had happened, understanding who her enemies were, and who those assassins and armored cavalry were.

Years later, those assassins who had once pressed down on her like mountains, arrogantly baring their fangs, had now become ants to be slaughtered at her will. As she effortlessly pierced their armor with her sword, sending them one by one to the Yellow Springs, their terror-stricken expressions and weak pleas seemed to proclaim to her that the gods of slaughter who had shattered her world twenty years ago were merely illusions in her memory.

Aside from slaying demons and monsters, cultivators were not permitted to interfere with the lives and deaths of ordinary mortals. Although she broke this rule, she was the pride of Sky Cavern Peak. No one would criticize her, and some would even actively cover for her.

However, fate played a cruel trick. While killing an aged assassin, she accidentally took an extra glance. She saw his eyes, and even after so many years, even with his eyes now full of wrinkles, she still recognized that gaze.

It was the only gaze visible through the iron helmet that year, the entirety of her memory.

That gaze drove her somewhat mad.

Of course, the assassin couldn't possibly have recognized her. He pleaded, saying his daughter was always bullied by her husband's family, and if he died, she would be greatly tormented.

She couldn't bear to listen, so her sword swiftly fell, severing his head. A death without torment was mercy to him.

With her worldly ties severed, she, at that damned moment, transcended Longevity to enter the Violet Palace. She then became trapped in a heart-devil tribulation, her Dao heart wavered, leaving her half-mad and half-conscious. When the heavenly lightning struck, she couldn't withstand it, suffering severe damage to her Great Dao and sustaining grave injuries.

She went mad. She killed countless people, massacred several villages, and became a demon in the eyes of many. The only difference was that a mad demon never showed mercy, only utter annihilation.

Ultimately, the Sect Master personally intervened, severing her spiritual meridians, scattering her cultivation, and imprisoning her in the cold dungeon.

Throughout those long years, she remained conscious, and this consciousness brought only pain. For twenty whole years, she regretted that revenge. She couldn't understand why she had so stubbornly pursued vengeance, even though her father and mother had never truly liked her, and her brothers had always used her as a punching bag.

She had already become an immortal; nothing in this world would ever be more important than herself.

A foolish revenge had cut short her Great Dao, exchanging it for an endless life of suffering. So she hated everyone: her deceased family, the demon who had spared her life, her master, the Sect Master, and everyone in the Sword Heavenly Sect.

She stood on a high peak stone, briefly recalling her life. Her life was like aged wine, meant to become exceptionally mellow, but just as it was about to be uncorked, the dregs at the bottom of the jar were stirred up.

'Is that you?' she murmured, gazing at the distant Peak Master's Hall, then slowly floated towards it.

The watery dark figure that had granted her a new lease on life had told her that the current Peak Master was Lu Jiajia, whose talent and aptitude remarkably resembled her own from back then.

That was why she had to kill her even more.

She never believed any other woman was stronger than her. Even the Peak Master of Hanging Sun Peak was merely decades ahead in cultivation.

Her tattered red robes fluttered in the night wind, which swept her long hair aside, revealing her pale face.

She soon arrived before the Peak Master's Hall.

Upon reaching the hall, however, she heard strange noises emanating from within, sounds that further unleashed her murderous aura, which she could no longer conceal.

Inside the Peak Master's Hall.

Ning Changjiu was helping Lu Jiajia refine her body. His fingers, pressed against her back, glowed with a faint golden light. This golden hue, like an electric current, permeated every fine thread of the white gauze, transforming the delicate white fabric covering Lu Jiajia's beautiful back into a golden net.

Her graceful body seemed to be tightly ensnared by this net, like a trapped small beast, shoulders hunched, body trembling within its confines.

Ning Changjiu could sense the unusual changes in her body. Her interior had never been so bright; the cold energy accumulated over years dissipated invisibly within the Golden Crow's light. All her acupoints embraced this radiance, absorbing the light and emitting heat and warmth, like tiny suns scattered throughout her physique.

Her Violet Palace glowed brightly, and her Sea of Qi was illuminated as if it were a golden core.

She felt as though she were completely exposed, despite being clothed. The scorching heat, though not physical, was a burning sensation on the spiritual plane, making it even more unbearable. If they had been alone, she might have ripped off her clothes and plunged directly into the cold pond behind the Peak Master's Hall.

Her toes curled, and her body was taut as a bow. With one hand, she clutched her clothing, while the other rested on her lower abdomen, as she desperately fought against the dizzying sensation of her body burning.

Lu Jiajia bit down on her silver teeth, her eyelids closed and trembling. She suddenly felt the lapel she held was so slick that if it got any hotter, the entire garment might melt in the Golden Crow's light. Her fingers found their way to her lips, gently biting down. The moist warmth misted over her slender fingers, and the pain brought a brief moment of clarity.

She gradually calmed down, forming a lotus sword incantation with her other hand.

She began to attempt to detach her spirit, allowing her primary consciousness to fall into a daze, while another consciousness, like an unaware sage, observed her transformation dispassionately from the side. It was like a supervising official gravely watching an artisan forge pottery or ironwork.

This process continued for a long time.

Lu Jiajia suddenly felt her mind clear. The desires born from that scorching sensation receded from her mind like a tide, their roar growing fainter and more distant, as if her body no longer belonged to her.

She was merely a true sword, a seated Guanyin statue, her face unmoved by any emotion, showing not a trace of pity.

She had unexpectedly gained insight into her Dao realm, entering a brand new state by chance. She could sense that the Violet Palace was truly just a step away.

From Ning Changjiu's perspective, Lu Jiajia's spine straightened once more, and the curves of her back and waist softened again. Her tranquility was palpable, as if all external sensations were meaningless to her.

Ning Changjiu was somewhat displeased with Lu Jiajia's current state, but he certainly wouldn't disrupt the Dao realm she had painstakingly created. His only concern was whether, if she continued this way, Lu Jiajia would truly become a human weapon devoid of desire.

But this state was quickly broken.

After all, Lu Jiajia was not truly in the Violet Palace. This transcendent Dao realm couldn't last long; an emptied spirit could not achieve true emptiness. Therefore, any emotion or desire, even the slightest infiltration, would spread madly throughout her consciousness like weeds and vines after spring rain.

As her Dao realm fluctuated between emptiness and fullness, Lu Jiajia's thoughts returned. Although her understanding of the Dao realm had deepened, prematurely peeking into the Violet Palace brought with it much spiritual void as a negative consequence.

In a very short time, she transformed from a sword back into a human.

She bit down on her fingertip until blood oozed, then let out a soft moan. Her body abruptly tilted forward, arms bracing, half-prostrate on the cold jade bed. Her reversed sword robe draped down, and the lamplight reflected more of the jade-like colors.

If the body refinement had suddenly stopped, the damage to her body would have been immense. Fortunately, Ning Changjiu's fingers seemed to be glued to her back; as Lu Jiajia leaned forward, he also leaned forward with her.

'No… stop,' Lu Jiajia murmured, already somewhat disoriented, her voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz.

Ning Changjiu, of course, wouldn't stop. He knew his limits; if he ceased now, it would cause irreversible damage to her body.

Lu Jiajia found it unbearable. Her long hair fell, concealing her flushed cheeks. Her arms, supporting her body, gradually bent, until her entire forearms were pressed against the jade bed.

This was the scene the woman in dark red robes first glimpsed through the window.

From her perspective, Lu Jiajia's silken robe was half-slipped, her back exposed, as she knelt prone on the bed. A young man in white was leaning over her, doing something that made Lu Jiajia's face flush and caused her to moan continuously.

'You? You think you're fit to be Peak Master?' The woman's expression was fierce, the scar on her face like a knife ready to fly out. She gritted her teeth, believing she had caught the Peak Master and a disciple in an illicit affair, and her rage and hatred became uncontrollable.

Since she had gone mad, she was already incapable of hiding her emotions. Now, provoked by this sight, she was even more beyond endurance.

'How dare anyone compare this wanton wretch, so consumed by desire, to my past self?'

The woman watched the scene, her sword slowly rising in her hand.

She had initially believed that the two, lost in desire, wouldn't notice her attack. After all, her strength had now returned to its peak, and under the cover of night, she should have been the best assassin on Sky Cavern Peak.

But the moment she raised her sword, both individuals inside the room sensed her.

The first to sense her was Lu Jiajia, who possessed a higher cultivation realm. The alarm from her sword heart temporarily shattered the Dao realm she had created. She detected the murderous intent outside the room but couldn't identify the intruder. Meanwhile, the intense heat in her body made her limbs weak, preventing her from summoning her sword intent for a moment.

Behind her, Ning Changjiu reacted decisively, reaching out to extinguish all the candles on the lampposts within the Peak Master's Hall instantly.

The hall instantly plunged into darkness.

The peering woman outside the door had a stern expression. Subconsciously, she opened her sword-sight, an action that unfortunately exposed her to their view.

She immediately closed her eyes, attempting to conceal herself again, but it was too late. A sword had already burst through the window, shooting towards her glabella.

Having lost her cultivation for twenty years, the woman's initial physical reaction was weak. But after overcoming that inner weakness, the sword had already pierced her heart. Fortunately, her reaction wasn't slow; in a very short time, she grabbed the blade with her bare hand, pulled it out, and twisted it into a bar of iron.

'You dogs!'

The woman cursed, then the window shattered instantly, and she darted into the dark Peak Master's Hall.

Ning Changjiu and Lu Jiajia were no longer on the cold jade bed.

'Let go!' Lu Jiajia hissed.

'No, if we stop now, the efforts of the past half-month will all be wasted,' Ning Changjiu said, holding her body, his fingers still pressed against her back. Lu Jiajia couldn't resist much; she felt that in this position, she resembled a little girl.

'How much longer?'

'About seven and a half minutes.'

'Then hold her off for now, I can still wield my sword!'

'Alright.'

Ning Changjiu nodded, ignoring the attacking assassin. As he continued Lu Jiajia's body refinement, he simultaneously used a Daoist Concealment Art and swiftly moved towards the back door.

Although they were using sound transmission, the woman still detected the vibrations when their words were spoken. Her figure glided across the floor tiles, as swift as a darting fish's shadow. She thrust her sword into the darkness, felt it strike something, and with a flick of her long sword, a piece of blood-stained clothing was brought out.

Ning Changjiu was the injured one. He remained silent, his expression utterly grim, as he carried Lu Jiajia and sped towards the back door.

But they had underestimated the assassin's speed. The second sword arrived in an instant. Had it not been for the Peak Master's Hall's natural suppression of outsiders, this hate-filled sword strike could have obliterated all the flagstones with flowing water patterns on the floor.

Ning Changjiu was also an outsider, and his movements were likewise impeded within the Peak Master's Hall. Thus, he couldn't completely evade the assassin woman's aggressive sword strike, and a very long gash was cut across his back.

Ning Changjiu swayed, the spasms from the pain making it difficult for him to react. Only his fingers remained firmly pressed against Lu Jiajia's back, with such force as if he wanted to sink deeply into her, to merge with her.

Lu Jiajia felt the strength in his fingers. Her entire body was burning, her consciousness constantly pulling between clarity and haziness, and Ning Changjiu's grip made her realize he was injured.

Lu Jiajia absolutely refused to passively wait for death under his protection. She let out a clear cry, forcing herself back into that Dao realm. Her spiritual consciousness became clear, her awareness seeming to transcend her body's soul, yet it governed her every action.

With a slight shift of her will, the immortal sword Minglan broke free from its sheath, humming as it flew towards her.

The sword light, like lightning, flashed past.

The sword's hum was very familiar; the woman instantly recognized it as Sky Cavern Peak's mountain-guarding sword—the sword that should have been hers.

Jealousy and hatred made her reach out her palm directly, wanting to grasp that bolt of lightning. But her movement was slightly slow; the lightning slipped through her fingers and landed in Lu Jiajia's hand, while the restless sword qi injured her fingers, leaving them scorched black.

Lu Jiajia turned her body fully, standing with sword in hand. Ning Changjiu held her waist with one arm and pressed his other hand against her back. They stood one in front of the other. Lu Jiajia, knowing Ning Changjiu was injured, decided not to move, holding her sword to directly face her opponent.

They both opened their sword-sight simultaneously.

The woman gazed at Lu Jiajia's faintly flushed, exquisitely beautiful face. Her heart stirred; even as another woman, she felt captivated, though this captivation made her want to draw her sword and slash a scar across that face.

She looked at the hand wrapped around Lu Jiajia's waist, sneering repeatedly: 'What a pair of debauched lovers! At such a critical moment, you're still entwined? As the Peak Master of Sky Cavern Peak, if this matter becomes known to the entire peak... Hah, look at your appearance, the disciples outside probably still think you're an ice-cold fairy, don't they?'

Lu Jiajia remained silent, staring at the woman before her. Her gaze fell upon the scar. An incredible thought flashed through Lu Jiajia's mind, and then she spoke in a cold voice, 'Are you Bingrong?'

'Bingrong?' The woman hesitated for a moment, then laughed. 'I don't even remember my own name, yet you actually know it.'

Lu Jiajia had never seen her before. When Lu Jiajia joined the sect, Bingrong had already been imprisoned in the cold dungeon for several years.

But she had heard her master mention Bingrong countless times.

Saying that if Bingrong hadn't gone mad, she would have been her best senior sister.

But she had gone mad. When her master went mad, someone pulled him back, but this senior sister's grave mistakes meant she was no longer worth pulling back.

'How did you escape?' Lu Jiajia was shocked. She had personally supervised the repair of the cold dungeon and the establishment of its restrictions. On the day of the Hidden Peak's great upheaval, Bingrong had failed to escape, so it should have been even more impossible afterwards.

Meanwhile, Ning Changjiu was thinking of more.

He understood the abnormality he had sensed over the past few days.

Logically, with Sky Cavern Peak in decline, it should have been far inferior to the other peaks in terms of spiritual energy absorption. However, on that day, the spiritual energy brushed his face as usual. Because it was too ordinary, his subconscious sensed something abnormal, yet he couldn't figure out the origin of this anomaly.

Today, he finally realized; it was because Sky Cavern Peak was still hiding a master.

This master was not the woman named Bingrong before them, but the one who had granted Bingrong power and helped her escape the cold dungeon.

Ning Changjiu couldn't fathom who that person could be.

And Lu Jiajia and Bingrong, after a brief "exchange of greetings," almost simultaneously began to draw their swords.

They shared the same master; one was the most outstanding female disciple from twenty years ago, the other the most outstanding now. Their sword arts originated from the same style, allowing them to instantly know each other's strengths and weaknesses upon striking.

Ning Changjiu was certain that if Lu Jiajia were at full strength, Bingrong would not survive ten moves. But at this moment, Lu Jiajia's body refinement could not be interrupted, the heat of her body was eroding her spirit, and the Dao realm she had created was also precarious, unable to last much longer.

Bingrong's figure flickered, and the next moment, all that remained in her place was a rapidly dissipating afterimage.

And the incredibly thin, light sword in her hand was already closing in on Lu Jiajia.

Bingrong opened with the Sand and Snow style from the first half of the Heavenly Decree Sword Sutra, while Lu Jiajia used the Mirror Flower style. After both had built up momentum, they identically executed the Great River into the Ditch style. In the darkness, their sword lights annihilated each other upon collision, and countless cracks instantly fractured across the floor tiles, spreading rapidly to great distances.

Amidst the sword qi, the two swords also collided.

Blade against blade, Bingrong pressed with the strength of her arm. Amidst the scraping of steel, Bingrong's light sword scraped past Minglan, instantly coming up against the quillon. She twisted her wrist, aiming to slip her sword through Lu Jiajia's guard and directly into her heart.

Lu Jiajia sensed it. With a flick of her wrist, her sword moved sharply, deflecting the attacking blade before it could cut in. Although the woman's sword arm was parried, as she twisted her body, her other hand transformed into a palm strike aimed directly at Lu Jiajia's forehead.

Lu Jiajia was currently shielding Ning Changjiu like a hen protecting her chick. Unable to directly evade Bingrong's assault, she could only extend her hand to meet it.

With a crisp sound, Bingrong's palm struck her wrist. Under the immense force, Lu Jiajia and Ning Changjiu slid backward. Inside the Peak Master's Hall, the darkness was suddenly much brighter as Bingrong spread her arms, her long sword silently suspended at her center.

The sword qi shone with immense brilliance.

This was the very sword strike Lu Jiajia had unleashed in the Imperial City that day.

'Let go!' Lu Jiajia hissed, but it was too late.

The body refinement was nearing completion, and Ning Changjiu was unwilling to give up halfway now, as doing so would destroy any future possibility of Lu Jiajia achieving a sword body.

However, a disagreement at such a critical moment was fatal.

At this moment, Lu Jiajia's Dao realm was nearly lost; the burning sensation surged through her body and mind again, amplifying countless emotions in the intense heat. This would greatly disrupt the speed of her sword strikes.

Indeed, Bingrong's sword momentum had already begun, but Lu Jiajia had not yet properly positioned her stance. As Bingrong's sword thrust came for her chest, Lu Jiajia could only shift from offense to defense.

The rainbow-like sword qi illuminated their faces clearly.

'You're so weak! What right do you have to be Peak Master?' Bingrong roared, sensing Lu Jiajia's wavering sword heart, and thrust her sword forward.

The two sword momenta collided, igniting a sky full of sword flames that brilliantly illuminated the Peak Master's Hall.

Their sword qi then also clashed, and the chaotic sword intent, like countless flying knives, instantly erupted, tearing through everything with destructive force.

The impact condensed into a massive wave that directly knocked Lu Jiajia over, sending them both backward. The back door of the Peak Master's Hall shattered, and Lu Jiajia and Ning Changjiu were flung backward together, plummeting like a stone into the cold pond behind the hall.

Bingrong stood her ground, watching the splashing water in the cold pond, and gave a cold, disdainful smile, shaking her head lightly.

'Cough...'

The two crashed to the bottom of the cold pond from the immense impact. Ning Changjiu coughed, the icy water rushing into his mouth and nose. He quickly held his breath, allowing the transparent water, like giant hands, to lift their bodies, bringing them back to the surface.

Bingrong walked out through the back door of the Peak Master's Hall.

She looked up at the moonlight, then turned to glance back at the enormous hall.

The flames of the old mansion over forty years ago, and the memories of her massacre of villages and towns when she went mad twenty years ago, surged together in her mind. She had transformed from a defenseless person into a demon wielding swords and blades.

She never believed she was wrong; she always saw herself as a pitiful person. What she hated most was her master. He had also gone mad back then, so why couldn't he understand her?

Bingrong sneered, covering her face. Tears, which should have long since dried up, seeped through her fingers.

Yet she didn't know how excellent an opportunity to kill she had missed by indulging in her melancholy under the moonlight at this very moment.

By the time Bingrong reached the edge of the cold pond with her sword, Lu Jiajia had already risen, sword in hand.

Her clothes floated on the water's surface, like a snow-white water lily.

Her lower skirt was soaked with the cold pond water, clinging wetly to her slender thighs.

Her long hair, also wet, draped down, concealing her body. At this moment, her face became profoundly serene, deeply tranquil. Her form under the moonlight seemed crafted from the finest jade, or the painstaking masterpiece of the best court painter. Such frost-defying, snow-rivaling beauty utterly captivated Bingrong, making her wish she could cleave open Lu Jiajia's flesh and possess that alluring skin.

But she sensed that Lu Jiajia's aura had abruptly changed. The woman who had previously been powerless before her now seemed truly unsheathed, and the chill she exuded made Bingrong herself want to retreat three paces.

Bingrong, however, felt no fear; instead, her fighting spirit was further ignited.

To wield her sword freely and fully one more time was her lifelong aspiration, let alone against such an opponent!

Bingrong recalled the man she had killed. That man would never know his death had stemmed from her moment of soft-heartedness back then.

When she killed him, she showed no womanly mercy. Even if given a million more chances, she would kill him again. She savored the thrill of extinguishing kindness, though this also became a key factor in her later fall into the heart-devil tribulation.

She had originally believed that was the most satisfying sword strike of her life.

But now, her spirit, energy, and essence had once again peaked. She believed she could unleash a sword strike so powerful and swift, so flawless, that even she couldn't find fault with it.

The two exchanged glances, then both drew their swords again.

The bright moon in the sky was stripped of its color.

In the center of the two, the cold pond churned up water dragons, engulfing them.

This was indeed Bingrong's most satisfying sword strike, flawless in every aspect. Even the current Lu Jiajia could only match it in skill when facing this blow.

But she still died.

She died from a sword thrust that pierced her throat from the side.

It was Ning Changjiu's sword.

Although he knew Lu Jiajia's next sword strike could also kill her, he wouldn't give Bingrong any chance to retaliate or send a message.

Bingrong stared blankly ahead, the fire in her eyes slowly dimming, then she fell with a splash into the cold pond, her blood spreading out.

Lu Jiajia lowered her sword and said softly, 'Turn around, I'm changing.'

Ning Changjiu didn't respond. After delivering that sword strike, his body directly collapsed.

Lu Jiajia gasped softly. Only then did she discover that Ning Changjiu's back was already soaked with blood, the sword wound extremely deep.

She no longer cared about anything else, rushing over to support him, holding him in her arms. She lowered her head, looking at his pale face, and a terrible premonition rose in her heart.

She immediately pushed away such thoughts and began to treat his wounds. However, his back was already a bloody mess; forcefully transferring vital energy would only tear the wounds further, being counterproductive.

This time, she didn't hesitate at all, nor did she waste time searching for other acupoints through which to transfer energy. Instead, she directly leaned down, and her petal-like red lips pressed against his.

Her disciple's life was at stake; she was merely healing him.

As their lips met and vital energy flowed like water, this was what Lu Jiajia thought.