185: Chapter 185 Han Su is no match for Ye Yun

Everyone let out a collective sigh of relief, and a few people slumped directly into their chairs.

The clothes on their backs were already soaked through with cold sweat.

"It's him. It's him. I definitely wouldn't recognize him wrongly."

The man in the blue cloth short-shirt who had first recognized Ye Yun was trembling, his voice low and hoarse, as if he were afraid of being heard by the people upstairs.

"The Wu Family... it really was slaughtered by him alone."

No one answered.

Everyone was digesting this fact, and also digesting the pressure they had just felt from that youth—a force that had made them almost unable to breathe.

Half-step Martial Spirit.

No, that aura was even more terrifying than a Half-step Martial Spirit.

That was the kind of aura only someone who had walked out from a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood would possess.

Majestic without anger, immovable as a mountain.

Just sitting there eating a plate of spiced beef was enough to make everyone in the hall afraid to even draw a full breath.

...

Two days passed by slowly.

Life in Qingzhou City was much quieter than Fang Hansu had imagined.

The news of the Wu Family's annihilation had spread for a few days, but it had gradually cooled down.

People still occasionally mentioned it in the streets and alleys, but the tone had changed from shock to sighs of regret.

And from sighs of regret, it turned into fodder for idle chatter after tea and meals.

After all, those who died were members of the Wu Family; what did that have to do with ordinary folk?

Life had to go on, business had to be conducted, and meals had to be eaten.

But for Ye Yun and Fang Hansu, these two days had not been quiet at all.

It was not the first time, nor the second.

Fang Hansu herself could not remember; she only knew that every time it ended with her begging for mercy.

Sometimes it was in the evening.

The sunset outside the window dyed the entire room a warm orange. Ye Yun was sitting by the window drinking tea, and she walked over to refill his cup.

Before she could even set down the teapot, she was pulled into his arms.

The teapot fell to the floor, rolled a few times, and tea spilled everywhere, but neither of them cared to pick it up.

Sometimes it was late at night.

She had already gone to sleep, and in her daze, she felt a hand reach out from behind, wrap around her waist, and pull her backward.

Her back pressed against his scorching chest, and before she was fully awake, her lips were sealed.

Eventually, she truly couldn't hold on any longer, grabbing his arm and digging her nails into his flesh.

With a tearful voice, she cried out "Young Master", and only then did he finally let her go.

Sometimes it was early in the morning.

Fang Hansu clearly remembered that she had been the first to fall asleep last night, but when she opened her eyes in the morning, she found herself lying on his chest again.

Under the quilt, their bodies were tangled together.

She moved a little, trying to quietly shift away, but ended up waking him up.

Ye Yun opened his eyes and looked at her, his gaze shifting from hazy to clear.

From clear to dark, then he rolled over, and she was pressed underneath him again.

Fang Hansu felt like a piece of meat held in a wolf's mouth.

It was too precious to devour in one bite, yet he had to bite it a few times, lick it a couple of times, and hold it in his mouth to gnaw on from time to time.

She tried very hard to hold out a little longer.

Every time before they began, she secretly resolved that this time she definitely wouldn't beg for mercy so quickly.

But every time it reached the end, she was always the one who couldn't hold on.

Once, she was truly unconvinced, panting on his chest for a good while before speaking in a muffled voice.

"Young Master, do you know some kind of sorcery?"

Ye Yun's hand rested on her back, patting her rhythmically.

"What kind of sorcery?"

"It's... it's the kind that makes Fang Hansu melt at a single touch."

Ye Yun looked down at her.

"That's just you being weak-willed; who can you blame?"

Fang Hansu lightly bit his chest, leaving two rows of shallow tooth marks.

Then she buried her face back in, her voice muffled.

"Next time. Next time Fang Hansu will definitely win."

Ye Yun chuckled, his chest vibrating, making her cheeks tremble slightly.

"You've already said that many times."

"This time it's real."

"You said that last time too."

"And the time before that too."

Fang Hansu stopped talking, burying her face deeper, the tips of her ears turning red.

During these two days, the only exception was Cuier.

Cuier's injuries had mostly healed.

The Medicinal Pill Ye Yun had given her was very effective.

Those whip marks and bruises had scabbed over, and after they faded, they left behind faint pink marks.

They should fade away completely in a few days.

Her body didn't hurt anymore, and she could get out of bed, so she couldn't stay put.

Fang Hansu met her in her own room.

When Cuier pushed the door open and entered, Fang Hansu was sitting on the edge of the bed sewing a garment.

It was Ye Yun's gray robe, which had a tear in the cuff.

She lowered her head, sewing stitch by stitch, very slowly and very carefully.

It was as if what she held in her hands was not an old robe, but some incredible treasure.

Cuier stood at the door, watching her Young Miss, watching the side profile of her face as she lowered her head to sew the clothes.

Sunlight shone in through the window, landing on Fang Hansu.

Her hair was tied into a simple bun, fastened with a wooden hairpin, with a few stray locks hanging by her cheeks.

She was wearing a plain-colored dress; it was not a wedding dress, nor was it fine clothing, just the most ordinary coarse cloth.

Yet when worn on her, it possessed an indescribable beauty.

Cuier's eyes instantly turned red.

"Young Miss."

Fang Hansu looked up, saw Cuier standing at the door, and the needle in her hand paused.

Then she put down the garment, stood up, walked over, and pulled her into a hug.

"Cuier."

The two of them hugged each other, neither speaking.

After a long while, Cuier felt the fabric on her shoulder become wet.

Her Young Miss was crying—crying very softly, her shoulders trembling slightly, without making a sound.

"Young Miss, don't cry. Isn't Cuier perfectly fine?"

Fang Hansu let her go, wiped away her tears with the back of her hand, and looked her up and down.

The swelling on her face had gone down, the cuts at the corners of her mouth had healed, and she was wearing clean clothes.

They were coarse cloth clothes that the innkeeper had helped find; although they didn't fit well, they were clean.

She really did look much better.

But when Fang Hansu's gaze landed on the marks on her neck that hadn't completely faded yet.

Tears fell again.

"It's all because of me. If it weren't for protecting me, you wouldn't have been locked up in the Wu Family, and you wouldn't have been... been by that beast..."

She couldn't continue; her lips trembled, and her fingers clutched Cuier's sleeve tightly, her knuckles turning white.

Cuier reached out and wiped her tears with her sleeve, clumsy and awkward, smearing Fang Hansu's face.

"What is Young Miss saying? Cuier's life was saved by Young Miss. If Young Miss hadn't picked Cuier up from the street when we were young, Cuier would have starved to death long ago. Wherever Young Miss goes, Cuier goes; if Young Miss suffers, Cuier will accompany her. Isn't this how it should be?"

She spoke lightly, as if it really were nothing major.

Fang Hansu looked at her, at the expression on her face as she tried to pretend everything was fine, and it felt as if something had violently tugged at her heart.

She knew Cuier was comforting her; how could those things be nothing major?

But she didn't cry anymore, just squeezed Cuier's hand and nodded gently.

The two of them sat down on the edge of the bed.

Only then did Cuier have the chance to carefully look at her Young Miss. As she looked, her eyes suddenly brightened.

"Young Miss, why have you become so beautiful?"