Little Pink Starfish

Fated to Meet

Yu Xiaoxiao circled around Wuhuan thoughtfully. Some things couldn’t be ignored, even if she wanted to. In her past life, when Jing Mo ascended the throne, Zhuri had no Grand Preceptor. She didn’t recall any conflict between Jing Mo and Yongsheng Temple either. What did that mean?

Her little brain started spinning, as if she were planning a zombie-clearing operation. She concluded that the Wuhuan standing before her must have died before Jing Mo began his bloody conquest in Zhuri. And more importantly—Yongsheng Temple hadn’t cared. Wen Fenglin had become consort to the tyrant empress, and Wuhuan had died. Could it be… Yu Xiaoxiao’s eyes lit up.

Did Yongsheng Temple destroy itself through internal conflict?

“What are you smiling about?” Wuhuan asked. Although Yu Xiaoxiao’s face showed little expression, he could clearly see the joy in her eyes.

Yu Xiaoxiao was indeed delighted. If Yongsheng Temple had torn itself apart from the inside, why should she worry? Like Zuo and You had said, she could just take her Xiao Gu to eat white tiger meat or whatever. Why should she care if that bald-headed temple went down in flames?

“I was overthinking,” she told Wuhuan. “Before, I thought Wen Fenglin was plotting against me. Now I realize things weren’t what I imagined. Heh, the world’s not so bad after all.”

Wuhuan couldn’t make sense of what she was saying, and honestly, he had no idea how to respond.

Yu Xiaoxiao gave his shoulder a hearty slap. “Here’s the deal. If you’re not afraid of pain, I can fix your face. You’ll be able to eat like a normal person again.”

“I can already eat like a normal person,” Wuhuan replied.

“Really?” Yu Xiaoxiao opened her mouth wide, flashing a full set of white teeth. “Go on, open up like this. Let me see.”

Wuhuan: …

Yu Xiaoxiao chuckled. “Don’t act tough. If you’re sick, treat it. Once you’re healed, you can chow down just like everyone else.”

Wuhuan still didn’t know what to say.

“Oh right,” Yu Xiaoxiao added. “Can you tell me how your face ended up like that?”

Wuhuan’s left eye trembled slightly.

“Forget it if you don’t want to say,” Yu Xiaoxiao shrugged. She never forced people to recall their trauma. “Just think it over. If you want, I can do the surgery anytime. You won’t be back to your old self, but I can make sure you eat properly, and that the misplaced bones stop pressing on your nerves and causing pain.”

“Nerves?” Wuhuan asked.

Yu Xiaoxiao nodded.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” he said.

Yu Xiaoxiao sighed. Communication difficulties. They plagued not only the Gu brothers, but her as well. “Bottom line—I can fix your injuries.”

“What’s the catch?” Wuhuan asked. His face did often hurt so badly it was unbearable. If she could really stop that, he’d be willing to let her try.

“Catch?” Yu Xiaoxiao thought for a moment. “Can you help Jing Mo?”

“Princess,” Wuhuan replied, “even if I help the Crown Prince, if Yongsheng Temple doesn’t, what difference does it make?”

Yu Xiaoxiao frowned, her mouth turning down slightly. “What the hell did Wen Fenglin do to make your master like him so much and hate you?”

“Is ‘white lotus’ an insult?” Wuhuan asked. Lotus flowers bloomed pure from mud—when did that become an insult?

Yu Xiaoxiao snorted. “‘White lotus’ means someone who looks pure but is actually a two-faced little snake. Usually it’s used for women, but Wen Fenglin’s such a sissy, it applies to him just fine.”

There were several terms in her sentence that Wuhuan didn’t quite understand, but in the end, he just smiled and said, “Very few people dislike Fenglin—especially girls.”

“Oh,” Yu Xiaoxiao said. “I’m married. Not a girl anymore.”

Wuhuan looked at her, then suddenly asked, “If I don’t help Jing Mo, will you still help me?”

Yu Xiaoxiao was a bit disappointed. If Jing Mo gained power, it’d make things easier for her Xiao Liu in Zhuri. But if Wuhuan refused…

She glanced at the right side of his face and said, “Well, as they say—if fate brings us together, that’s enough. Help or not, I’ll still fix your face. That way, you can get married, kiss your wife, whatever—no problem.”

Wuhuan was speechless. Somehow, eating sounded better than this.

Just then, the black-clad guards dragged over Chenqi and Chenmie. Chenqi was unconscious, but Chenmie glared at Wuhuan and shouted, “Wuhuan, are you betraying the temple?!”

The word “betray” didn’t faze either Wuhuan or Yu Xiaoxiao—but his seven subordinates all flinched.

“Betray your sister!” Yu Xiaoxiao smacked Chenmie on the head, knocking him out. She looked at Wuhuan. “What do you want to do with them? Kill or keep?”

Wuhuan, since Yu Xiaoxiao had knocked them out, respectfully asked, “Princess, could you hand them over to me?”

“Sure,” Yu Xiaoxiao said easily. “Kill them if you want. Just one last question—what were you doing in my dad’s palace today?”

“This was my first time in Fengtian,” Wuhuan replied. “I was curious about the imperial palace. Didn’t expect you to be so… playful. Wouldn’t it be bad if your father found out?”

That was a veiled threat, but Yu Xiaoxiao just shrugged. “Oh well. You’ve got no proof.”

Wuhuan was momentarily stumped. He really didn’t have any proof.

“My dad’s a coward,” Yu Xiaoxiao said seriously. “You’ll scare him like that. Don’t sneak into the palace again, okay?”

Who was scarier—him, quietly observing the palace, or her, setting it on fire? Wuhuan suddenly felt a surge of sympathy for Emperor Xianzong.

“If you need me, come to the Gu residence,” Yu Xiaoxiao said, brushing her loose hair back and tucking it behind her ear. “I’ve got something else to do. Gotta go.”

As she turned to leave, she paused, took out her face-covering cloth, and handed it to Wuhuan. “Here, to make up for your mask. It’s breathable and works just as well.”

Wuhuan took the cloth and looked at her sleeve—it was clearly torn from her own clothes.

Seeing he didn’t mention compensation for the silver mask, Yu Xiaoxiao took off at full speed. A silver mask?! She wasn’t about to pay for that—how many sacks of rice and flour would it cost?

As he watched her vanish into the night, Wuhuan hesitated for a moment, then tucked the cloth into his inner pocket. He pulled out a dark fabric mask and covered his face.

“Master?” one of his men called.

“Take them with us,” Wuhuan said, glancing at the unconscious Chenqi and Chenmie, his eyes turning cold. These two had taught him everything he knew about martial arts. They were also his downfall. It seemed his master’s scheming against him had never stopped.