Chapter 42-1: Fight Tooth and Nail
Xiuyue's hand swayed, causing half of the ginger tea to
spill. Xiugu? Was this merely a coincidence, or did Miss Luo know her real
name?
"You don't like it?" Luo Sheng asked lightly.
Xiuyue regained her composure and tried to hide her
complicated feelings. "It's my honor to be named by Miss. There's no
reason not to like it. It's just that I'm ugly, so I don't deserve the word
'xiu' (beautiful)."
Luo Sheng smiled. "'Xiu[1]'
doesn't only refer to appearance. I believe 'Xiugu' suits you very well."
Xiuyue's lips twitched, but before she could respond,
Hongdou chimed in, "Come on, it's just a name. Why make such a fuss? Miss
can call you whatever she likes." When she first met Miss, Miss was eating
red bean soup and casually named her Hongdou. Did she complain? No!
"Hongdou, Xiugu is much older than you. Mind your
words," Luo Sheng reprimanded. "Understood," Hongdou replied
resentfully, holding her tea bowl and drinking it sullenly.
The pot of ginger tea was quickly finished, and its soothing
aroma lingered in the dimly lit ruined temple, warming their hearts amidst the
heavy rain outside.
Outside, black clouds rolled, and the rain poured down
heavily. A young guard picked up the pot diligently, saying, "I'm going to
wash the pots and bowls." Rainwater is the cleanest, making it convenient
for washing. If he washed the pot now, they could enjoy a hot meal later.
Ugly popo, uh, no, Xiugu was not only skilled at making
delicious barbecue but also excelled in preparing soup and porridge that were
so good they could make people's taste buds dance with delight. The young
guards carried the pots out with anticipation while the others chatted
enthusiastically around the fire.
After a while, Sheng Sanlang, who was most concerned about
lunch, looked towards the temple's entrance and wondered, "Why hasn't
Xiaochuan come back yet? It doesn't take that long to wash the pots and pans,
does it?"
A guard in his thirties smiled and said, "Perhaps he's
just relieving himself." "Where could he go to relieve himself in
such heavy rain?" Sheng Sanlang stood up, "I'll go and have a
look."
As Sheng Sanlang strode towards the temple entrance, Luo
Sheng suddenly spoke, "Biaoge, be careful."
Startled, Sheng Sanlang turned his head to meet Luo Sheng's
serious expression. He was about to brush off the concern, but at that very
moment, a flash of lightning illuminated the temple, followed by thunder
reverberating through the ruined temple, making it feel like the entire place
was trembling.
Subconsciously, Sheng Sanlang glanced at the door. Outside,
the dark sky and endless rain formed a curtain, the door seemingly dividing the
inside and outside of the temple into two entirely different worlds. Inside the
temple, there was a warm atmosphere due to the lingering aroma of ginger tea,
while outside, an aura of unknown darkness prevailed.
Despite his typically fearless nature, Sheng Sanlang felt a
twinge of nervousness. Upon reaching the temple door, he stood at the threshold
instead of stepping out directly and cautiously poked his head outside.
Another bolt of lightning pierced the sky, and in that brief
illumination, Sheng Sanlang saw the young guard who had gone out earlier lying
on his back, motionless not far away. The pot he had taken with him had fallen
to his side, now filled with rainwater.
With sharp eyes, Sheng Sanlang noticed the blood dripping
from the guard's body. Before he could cry out in surprise, he saw a dazzling
gleam of a sword coming down from above. Reacting swiftly, he closed the temple
door with lightning speed, pressing against it and shouting, "There are
assailants!"
Several guards, who had sensed something amiss, rushed over
with their swords in hand.
Bang bang bang, the door plank trembled violently as it was
being smashed from the outside.
Sheng Sanlang's face turned grim. "Xiaochuan is
dead!" Several guards tightened their grip on their swords. "Gongzi,
you go inside. Leave this to us."
[1]
秀 (xiù) means beautiful, elegant. Luo Sheng used a line from a poem to
describe this word.
精理為文,秀氣成采 (jīng lǐ wéi wén,
xiù
qì
chéng
cǎi)
"Refined principles become the foundation of the writing."
"Elegant spirit forms the grace."
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