246 Untitled (1/2)

Upon hearing the word ”eunuch,” Meng Fuyao's heart ached. She slammed the bowl on the table and turned to the ladies having the meal with her. ”Such disgusting food. I wouldn't force you guys, go back to your own residences to have your meal.”

The concubines dropped their filled bowls like a hot potato, as they gave their thanks as though they were granted amnesty, scurrying out of the palace.

After a while, in the opened doors, a tall, skinny figure appeared. Little Seven trudged over with his head hung down.

Meng Fuyao stared at his shadow—she couldn't look straight at him; her heart would hurt so bad.

It was all her fault. Why was she being so petulant? To act out over something like this? The consequence of this joke was beyond imagination.

At the corner of her eyes, she saw the shadow gradually pulling closer. How many hardships did he go through this few months? She remembered that he had never once hung his head down in the past. He always strutted with confidence, looking forward with a face full of pride. He even dared to ignore Zhan Beiye's orders. But what was it that had taught him to bow down, to lower himself in front of mere mortals?

A pure child… Who was it that carved the scars of the world onto his heart? Who was it that tainted his snow white heart?

Bam!

A crisp, loud smack shocked the servants as their skin jumped uniformly.

Meng Fuyao looked up with hot tears swirling in her eyes. Mustering up an ugly smile, she choked as she got an excuse out. ”It's so weird that there are actually mosquitoes in this cold winter!”

Tie Cheng turned away without a word. An Zi chased everyone out, leaving only Meng Fuyao and Little Seven.

Meng Fuyao stared at Little Seven, sniffling, as she closely observed his footsteps. According to Tie Cheng, before he entered the room, Little Seven had already broken free. But under what circumstances did he break free was something that Tie Cheng did not manage to clarify… there was blood… how serious was the wound? Looking at the way he walked, she couldn't tell anything. She also couldn't deduct the condition of his wounds from the timing—wounds that would take other people months to heal would not be able to confine him to bed for more than seven days.

She couldn't tell, she couldn't ask. Meng Fuyao was almost going crazy. She could only pray to the Heavens. 'Heavens, y'all better be nice, else I'll curse your entire family every time, every day…'

Heavens obviously did not care, refusing to give her any hints about his current condition.

Little Seven had no inkling of her current dilemma. He made his way over to her, quietly watched her before stripping off his outer robe. He reached behind him and took out something.

He took a step forward. Then, he knelt down and lifted the item in his hand high up for Meng Fuyao.

That item was black, long and covered in dust. Yet somehow, it glistened ominously in his palms.

The whip!

Meng Fuyao trembled. She swayed a little, slowly pressing her hand to her heart as she leaned back against her chair.

Her pale face struck a stark contrast with the golden screen embroidered with eighteen phoenixes that glimmered under the light, making her look paler than ever.

Two streams of tears rolled down her pale face.

Under the light of luminous pearls, her tears glistened. She did not wipe them away but took a deep breath and stepped forward, accepting the whip.

Even if she was dying, her leg was broken, her head had fallen, she would climb over to accept this whip, not to mention she was absolutely fine at the moment.

This child had wandered around for months, trying to look for her. He had used his life as an exchange to bring this whip to her. If she were to reject it, it would be letting him down.

Whoever refused to take the whip was a b*tch!

His promise weighed a thousand tonnes; Her whip that could not hesitate!

She, who understood him, knew that she had to whip him!

Bam!

That whip landed on his back with a force to be reckoned with. A red, swollen line immediately formed on his skin.

Little Seven swayed as he revealed a smile of relief.

Finally…

Meng Fuyao turned away. She didn't dare to face that relieved expression. With a 'swish,' the whip wrapped itself around Little Seven's wrist.

Bewildered, Little Seven looked out but saw Meng Fuyao's calm eyes reflected back in his eyes. With a flick of a finger, he could feel a rush of warmth heading towards his core. Where the warmth had passed through the meridians, it was as though the impurities within him were being purified. The inner energy that entered his body continuously filled him generously.

Little Seven's face changed.

He was a practitioner of martial arts, and naturally, he was familiar with the concept of transferring of inner energy. It was the essence of those that trained—extremely valuable. The amount of inner energy that Meng Fuyao had given him was equivalent of ten years worth of training for him.

Meng Fuyao smiled as she tossed the whip aside. She walked back towards her chair, exhausted. The loss of inner energy was rather significant for her, especially given that she was right about to enter the sixth level, third section of the ”Cleaving Nine Heavens.” Now, it was postponed.