Tears streamed down my face. “Hero, isn’t there a more comfortable way to carry me? Like holding me with both hands…”
He coldly replied, “Do you think I could use lightness kung fu while holding you with both hands?”
I gritted my teeth. “In that case, let’s return to the previous position. Thank you, hero. When I return home, I’ll surely have my husband properly reward you…”
Before finishing my sentence, he flipped me and tucked me under his right arm, leaping out the window.
The sky was spinning, the ground sinking, my neck wailing, my intestines churning. The hero carried me over one, two, three… countless walls and rooftops covered in white snow, cold wind whistling down my neck. In this torment, I could only desperately divert my consciousness.
I painfully told him that Liusheng WeiJie’s delicate, scholarly appearance was the future male standard in Yan Feng City, and that brute strength and fighting were crude and inelegant, suitable only for supporting characters. He was discouraged, dragging his sword home dejectedly in the sunset, never mentioning martial arts again.
The hero before me, able to freely move in the heavily guarded Qifeng Palace while carrying a human-shaped rice bag, clearly possessed high martial skills.
A memorial arch was nearby, with hanging lanterns barely illuminating the surroundings, revealing we were on a willow-lined embankment. The hero stood by a willow tree, arms crossed, watching me.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I stiffened my face. “Hero, I’m going home. About the reward…”
“No need.”
“Oh.” I turned, walking a few steps along the embankment, then stopped and turned back. “Hero, may I see your face?”
He sneered. “Don’t you know curiosity kills?”
“Oh.” I thought, hesitantly saying, “But I still want to see your face.”
He lowered his arms and slowly walked towards me. His tight outfit outlined a slender, taut silhouette, like power coiled to be released. I suddenly felt regretful and stepped back. “Actually… it’s not that urgent, hero, don’t take it seriously…”
The hero pondered. “Why do you want to see?”
“I just feel you’re a bit like my husband.”
“That sugar cake seller? You think I’m him?”
“Uh—” My face was somewhat frozen, intending to smile but only managing a lip twitch. “No one says a sugar cake seller can’t be a hero.”
