98 A Guinea Pig’s Plan (1/2)
Lord Yuan Bao pondered over it for a few days as the crew made their way to Huazhou. The battle between the Rongs was still ongoing but bound to end soon. Zhangsun Wuji had passed on the matter to his subordinate to settle before starting on the journey. Naturally, he had hoped that certain people wouldn't tag along but if they had to it was fine as well. He was going to send them packing sooner or later.
What he hadn't expected was his guinea pig's scheme to sell his woman to the rival.
They rested at the foot of Huazhou's Ning Mountain to rest. Tie Cheng, also Meng Fuyao's guard, had surveyed the surroundings earlier on. By right, big figures like them should be accompanied by a lot of guards, but these few people enjoyed freedom. Zhangsun Wuji's guards had always been secretly hiding and protecting him, while Zhan Beiye had complete confidence in his own ability. Ya Lanzhu believed that it was others' luck if she didn't cause them trouble, and Zong Yue had always walked alone. The few of them cast pitiful glances over at Meng Fuyao, as though she was a little bird that required much protection.
The ”little bird” was being treated very well. During tea, the War God personally filled her cup but accidentally spilled it all over her sleeves. Embarrassed he hurriedly wiped it away, only to be interrupted by Zhangsun Wuji's frosty voice. ”She doesn't drink tea.”
Meng Fuyao couldn't bear to look at Zhan Beiye. She stood up and announced, ”I'm going to relieve myself.”
Lord Yuan Bao jumped onto the shoulder immediately, gesturing that he also needed to pee.
”Kidney failure?” Meng Fuyao snorted. ”Didn't you pee not long ago?” While squabbling in this manner, they made their way behind the shed.
Some time later squeaks could be heard clearly. They were long and trembly, first increasing in pitch then gradually dropping. The squeaking sounded like the inharmonious sounds a woman and man-made on the bed. Zhangsun Wuji pricked his brows and chuckled. Yuan Bao's habit of singing while doing number two had come out again, and his singing skill was getting from startling to absolutely shocking.
He sipped on his tea, and upon looking up, Zhan Beiye was gone.
Stunned, it occurred to him that not everyone could accept the guinea pig's singing voice. Listening to him sing was no different from experiencing the ten greatest torture pieces of equipment. When he sang in his low, raspy voice, abnormal scenes would start popping into people's heads. Zhan Beiye had probably interpreted that the guinea pig was calling for help, and immediately assumed, with a man's imagination, that Meng Fuyao's clothes were being torn in a dark alley.
Zhangsun Wuji smiled while refilling his cup.
'I see what you're doing, guinea pig…'
In the toilet, Lord Yuan Bao was singing at the top of his lungs while squatted on Meng Fuyao's shoulder. While he sang, he stuck his head out and looked around. 'Why isn't he here yet… she's almost done…'
”Please stop singing,” Meng Fuyao begged, ”I'd rather you sing 'The Eighteen Touches'…”
At this moment, the sharp-eyed Yuan Bao spotted a black figure sweeping over from afar.
”Squeak–––” Lord Yuan Bao ended his call with the highest and most powerful screech before leaping out of the window.
Startled, Meng Fuyao zipped her pants and shouted, ”What's wrong with this stupid rat…”
A gust of wind rolled over, and the sight before her eyes lit up.
A black and red silhouette swept toward her, pulling the curtain aside. ”Fuyao, what enemy…”
He paused.
Before him, stood a slim, tender lady with untidy clothes. Her blouse was slightly lifted, and her bottom wasn't exactly pulled up properly. As such, exposed in between her dark clothes was a strip of jade-like skin that appeared exceptionally bright.
She looked up in surprise with her mouth slightly parted. Feeling embarrassed over having her privacy invaded in this manner, Meng Fuyao blushed, her redness resembling that of candles. In contrast to her translucent skin, it carried a hazy radiance.
Zhan Beiye held his breath, instantly being suffocated by her beauty. It was as if he had witnessed the blooming of the crape myrtle in her mother's palace many years back. When he had turned back to the corridor, he had seen his mother standing before the flowers, embracing the gentle breeze while smiling at him with brilliantly lit eyes.
His heart ached. The pain snapped him out of his daze and into reality – Meng Fuyao was relieving herself, there was no enemy, and her pants weren't properly zipped yet.
The War God felt his body burn.
When Meng Fuyao finally came out of shock and embarrassment, she started dangerously raising her brows. At this point, especially, Zhan Beiye was basically on fire.