Chapter 16: Mom, the Meat Buns Are Delicious

Upon returning to the village, everyone gradually got off the bus, leaving only Li Qingyun still onboard. Old Gu had been right—her home was indeed on the way to the cattle shed, though it was the longer route, and if he were to drop her off, he’d have to make a detour. She appreciated his kindness.

So, as she stepped down from the bus, she took out a large, white steamed bun and handed it to him. “Uncle, thank you for your hard work at noon. Please take this for your child.”

Earlier that morning, she had noticed him tucking a crispy twist into his coat, reluctant to eat it—most likely saving it for his grandson at home.

Old Gu stubbornly refused the bun, insisting he had already accepted a twist from her and could not take more.

In Yongle City, they changed horses. Xu Zai Jing, together with Qingyun and the Li brothers, circled the border, and entered Shizhou City under the guise of Ring Division spies on the twenty-second day.

She wanted to say, “If you are willing to return, Grandmother will surely protect you,” and also, “They would never do such a thing.”

“Mr. Lu, long time no see! How have you been lately?” The beauty’s gaze rippled, and she winked at Lu Yanxun.

He had a hunch—if he were to do push-ups right now, he’d surely manage several hundred more than before.

Lin Changqing smacked his lips, did not immediately spit out Wang Ziye, but pretended not to hear him, turning his gaze inward to observe Wang Ziye’s process of re-forming his spectral body out of nothingness.

In that split second, Brother Dabiao made no further move, for his eyes were filled with shock and disbelief.

Though this branch office paid its employees modestly, the headquarters was lavish and the system well established.

This was a special world, home to many dragons; with luck, one could discover rare dragon resources.

Xu Zai Jing placed the queen’s bestowed token in a safe place, choosing not to carry it, for it was too precious.

The Ancestor of the Crimson Phoenix raised her hand, cradling the golden light in her palm, feeling the phoenix blood within her threaten to boil.

Thinking of this, Wang Haitao’s expression changed—why had he bothered? Had he known it would end this way, he would never have come out.

“Pfft!” Yao Beibei was gliding through the air on her sword when a searing pain struck her back, as though her flesh had been torn by a sharp weapon. Unable to hold on, she plummeted from the sky, blood spurting from her mouth.

Tao Junlan was stunned, then became incredibly moved—her eyes gradually reddened, a shimmer gathering in their depths. She hadn’t expected the Second Prince to trust her so much, and to have Zhou Yi deliver such words on her behalf.

“Did you think about the consequences of helping me?” Yao Beibei asked calmly. Since she’d chosen to cooperate with Liu Meili, she would thoroughly test her resolve.

“I’ll call you before I leave tomorrow. By the way, do you know how to drive?” Hua Qingqing asked again.

Upon reaching the seventh floor, Situ Lei hesitated to ring the doorbell, worried that Xue’er might be angry with him. Just then, Xue’er called, “Hello, Lei, are you here yet?” Inside, Xue’er, seeing that it was about time, thought Lei should have arrived and phoned to check.

The sun had climbed to the center of the sky; it was already noon, the hottest hour of the day.

Having witnessed Wang Yu’s many miraculous abilities, Hua Tianxiong was no longer surprised to see him emerge suddenly from underground.

“All the trainees are ours. These people only follow the instructors’ commands and won’t obey Shoko Asahara,” Chang Lin said with a smile. His plan was flawless; by the time Shoko Asahara realized, he would already be under the control of elite assassins.

Though his body had somewhat recovered, Wang Yu was still exhausted, too drained even to speak.

Once inside the living room, everyone took their seats. Cheng Huailiang recounted how he discovered clues about the prince’s disappearance and subsequently apprehended Li Yuanchang and Hou Junji.

These people were scared out of their wits, feeling utterly aggrieved—not for lack of skill, but because the illness was simply impossible to cure.