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The Blossom Guardian · Page 2 of 2
"Ah—" The pain in her hand made Yang Qiqi drop the dagger. Her body had not recovered; that she could stand up and walk to Wei Zhao's back at all was sheer willpower holding her upright. Once the dagger left her hand she collapsed as though completely drained, dropping down onto the floor of the room and gasping for breath. The wound on her leg seemed to have been jolted as well, and cold sweat slid down her forehead.
Wei Zhao spat the dagger aside and went on brewing. "You really are an ingrate. But never mind—a good man does not fight a woman. Off you go, before I finish this medicine and can't resist killing you."
By now Yang Qiqi understood: Wei Zhao was no ordinary man at all. Could an ordinary man have dodged her sneak attack just now? Could an ordinary man have bitten down on a dagger? And from his words she understood as well—so this decoction was not for her at all. She had been flattering herself.
"Hmph." Yang Qiqi's eyes brimmed with humiliation and unwillingness. She was no reckless sort either; as a killer she could not afford to be—reckless killers were the first to be killed, and could never have lived as long as she had.
Since Wei Zhao had been able to snatch away her dagger with both hands occupied, Yang Qiqi abandoned any thought of striking again. She was no match for Wei Zhao; even uninjured, she could not have been sure of handling this man completely.
There was no killing intent about this man, not a trace of it, and yet what he gave her was a sense of unfathomable depth, truly unfathomable. Within the organization, she had felt anything similar only when facing her own father.
Yang Qiqi silently picked her leather pants up from the floor. There was blood inside them, but it had already dried; apart from being a little uncomfortable, they did not look bad. The key problem was that there were no other clothes to change into in this room.
"Don't forget to close the door when you leave," Wei Zhao said to Yang Qiqi, as though he had eyes in the back of his head.
"..." Yang Qiqi went out of the room and shut the door heavily behind her.
"One, I'm sorry. This man is my savior, and I am no match for him as I am now... But rest assured, I will remember him, and one day I will kill him with my own hands, because I am only your little Seven..." Yang Qiqi swore a venomous oath in her heart. In truth, Yang Qiqi had not originally been called Yang Qiqi; "Seven" was merely a code name from the graduation trial group of former assassins. She was the youngest, so naturally she ranked seventh. The other members of the group had likewise been named by numbers.
And inside the room, Lin Dajian-pai, still brewing his medicine, had no idea that in doing a good deed out of kindness, he had just been marked down in someone's memory.
"Achoo!" Wei Zhao sneezed, thinking to himself that he had smelled the scent of Chinese medicine before, so why would it make him sneeze? This was the second sneeze today. Wei Zhao sniffled. Could it be that he really had caught a cold?
Since when had this body of his gotten so poor? Catching a cold the moment he arrived at Songshan—could it be because he had too much free time?