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The Blossom Guardian · Page 1 of 2
Wei Zhao had not expected the girl to be grateful to him, but she clearly had no intention of letting him off.
Just as Wei Zhao was bent on brewing the medicine and paid the girl behind him no mind, a killing intent came sweeping at him from behind, and the jade pendant he wore stirred of its own accord, sending out a signal of danger.
Wei Zhao frowned. But at this critical moment in the brewing, he did not want to be distracted. "Don't make trouble."
Yang Qiqi's heart was a knot of contradictions. On the road out of the pharmacy she had fainted from loss of blood, but when Wei Zhao tore her trousers off, the wound was jolted and the pain brought a little feeling back into her—her head cleared somewhat too. She was simply too weak to so much as open her eyes, and fainted away again.
Later, when Wei Zhao dressed the wound and sprinkled medicine over it, Yang Qiqi was jolted awake once more by the pain and promptly passed out again. So of what came afterwards she still had a rough impression.
The man in this room had saved her—but at the same time he had seen a great many things he should never have seen: her face, and her legs... That was something Yang Qiqi could never tolerate.
It was true that killing her own savior, burning the bridge right after crossing it, left a little unease in Yang Qiqi's heart. But her face was meant to bloom for one man alone in this life, and the man in this room had already crossed her bottom line.
Her decision made, Yang Qiqi groped for the dagger beside the bed and stole up behind Wei Zhao on tiptoe. But seeing him wholly absorbed in brewing the medicine, her movements visibly faltered.
Was he brewing medicine for her? A warmth rose in Yang Qiqi's heart, and she found she could not quite bring herself to strike.
Yang Qiqi admitted that her heart was not yet as cold as other killers', not so ruthless and unfeeling. However one put it, the man in this room was her savior.
While Yang Qiqi hesitated, Wei Zhao, as though scolding a child, told her to "don't make trouble"—which left her visibly stunned. She was about to kill him, and he told her not to make trouble?
Did he imagine that she had gotten out of bed only to wander aimlessly about the room?
"Did you never hear the story of Mr. Dongguo when you were small?" Wei Zhao still did not turn around, going on as though talking to himself. "I feel I am rather like Mr. Dongguo in that story just now."
Yang Qiqi's expression changed. Of course she knew the story of Mr. Dongguo. She had grown up inside a killers' organization, true, but she was markedly different from the other killers: besides assassin training, she had also received a proper education.
The story of Mr. Dongguo was in fact a classic fable—it told of a man named Mr. Dongguo who saved a wolf, and the wolf turned on him and wanted to eat him.
But Wei Zhao's words reminded Yang Qiqi of something else: his earlier "don't make trouble" had not been said at random. Wei Zhao had already sensed that she meant to kill him.
The story of Mr. Dongguo that he told afterwards proved it. He was mocking her ingratitude to her face.
Who on earth was this man? Yang Qiqi's heart gave a start. With his back turned he could sense her hostility, and yet he made no response at all—was it that he had nothing to fear, or...?
Then the purpose behind his treating her wound was open to question. A chill welled up in Yang Qiqi's heart, and it hardened her resolve; her hand on the dagger quickened, and without the slightest hesitation she thrust at Wei Zhao's throat.
Wei Zhao had not expected this woman killer to be so unrelenting—did she think she could take advantage of him with both his hands occupied? He frowned, whipped his head aside to dodge her dagger, and bit down on the blade—and, of course, on Yang Qiqi's fingers as well.