Ling Yan, unusually, didn’t get angry; he just lowered his head. “Weren’t you always someone who never gives up? Why did you give up so easily this time? Don’t you still have a chance?”
“Hehe, do I still have a chance? I don’t even have the right to escape; where would my chance come from? Watching Shang get hit by a poisoned arrow and seeing his painful state, what could I do? I could do nothing…” Ling Yan stopped talking and, together with Ling Shuang, took me back to my room.
As he was about to leave with Ling Shuang, he dropped a sentence: “I will help you, whether you have a chance or not, don’t give up…” This one sentence reignited hope in my heart. I thanked him sincerely and tried to stand up again.
Three months passed, then a year, and I was now seventeen. The new year brought me no joy. Finally, I heard that Shang had been released, safe and sound; my heart was at ease. Xiao Chen Yue and I were to marry in March, and as the wedding day approached, Ling Yan still had no progress.
I gazed into the distance, lost in thought when Ling Shuang’s voice rang out. He ran up to me, catching his breath. “There’s… hope!” I opened my eyes in disbelief. After catching his breath, Ling Shuang continued, “Yang Zi Ru has started contacting other sects to come to the rescue. They plan to attack the Demon Cult on the wedding day and take you and the antidote away.”
“Really?!”
I laughed happily, the first time I’d laughed so genuinely in three months. Ling Shuang smiled and nodded. I took his hand, “Thank you, Brother Ling Shuang.” He embraced me, “Promise me you’ll be happy.” I nodded, “I will…”
Ling Shuang’s good news lifted my gloomy mood, and I returned to my lively self who loved to laugh and use crude language.
“Master…” the leading ‘Sugar Master’ uncle hesitated, “There’s no ‘but’, the Master orders you to go back!” Xiao Chen Yue’s gaze became sharp, extinguishing my enthusiasm.
