護花近衛 - 第81章 恩將仇報？ - 墨香閣

Wei Zhao had not expected this female assassin to be so unrelenting — did she think she could bully him while both his hands were occupied? Wei Zhao frowned, abruptly twisted his head aside to dodge Yang Qiqi's dagger, then simply opened his mouth and bit down on the blade — and on Yang Qiqi's fingers along with it, of course.

"Ah—" The pain in her hand sent the dagger flying from her grip. Her body had not recovered; that she could stand up and walk to a spot behind Wei Zhao at all was purely by force of will. The instant the dagger left her hand, Yang Qiqi, as if every bit of strength had drained out of her, dropped down onto the floor of the room, gasping for breath; the wound on her leg seemed to have been jolted as well, and cold sweat slid down her head.

Wei Zhao spat the dagger aside and went on brewing the medicine. "You really are an ungrateful wretch. Still, never mind — a real man does not fight a woman. Hurry up and leave, before I finish the medicine and can't stop myself from killing you."

By now Yang Qiqi understood as well: Wei Zhao was no ordinary man at all. Could an ordinary man have dodged her sneak attack just now? Could an ordinary man have bitten down on a dagger? And from Wei Zhao's words she also gathered that these herbs were not being brewed for her at all — she had been flattering herself.

"Hmph." Yang Qiqi's eyes brimmed with humiliation and unwillingness. She was no reckless sort; as an assassin she could not be one, for reckless assassins were killed by others first — they could not have lived to this day.

Since Wei Zhao, with both hands occupied, could still take her dagger from her so easily, Yang Qiqi gave up the notion of striking again. She was no match for Wei Zhao; even unwounded, she could not be sure of dealing with this man completely.

There was no killing intent about this man, not the faintest trace of it, yet what she felt from him was unfathomable — truly unfathomable. That feeling, inside the organization, she had known only when facing her own father.

Yang Qiqi silently picked her leather pants up off the floor. There was blood on them, but it had dried, and apart from being a little uncomfortable they did not look bad. The crucial problem was that there were no other clothes to change into in this room.

"Don't forget to shut the door when you leave," Wei Zhao said to Yang Qiqi, as though he had eyes in the back of his head.

"..." Yang Qiqi went out of the room and slammed the door shut behind her.

"One, I'm sorry. This man is my savior, and as I am now I am no match for him... But don't worry, I have remembered him, and one day I will kill him with my own hand, because I am your Little Seven, and yours alone..." Yang Qiqi swore a venomous oath in her heart. In truth, Yang Qiqi had not always been called Yang Qiqi; "Seven" had merely been a code name from the graduation trial group she had belonged to as an assassin. She was the youngest, so she was ranked seventh. The other members of the group were likewise named by number.

And the man still brewing medicine in the room had no idea that by doing a good deed out of the kindness of his heart, he had just been marked down in someone's memory.

"Achoo!" Wei Zhao sneezed, thinking to himself that it was not as if he had never smelled herbal medicine before, so why would he sneeze? That was the second sneeze today. Wei Zhao sniffed. Could he really be catching a cold?

His body — when had it become this poor? The moment he reached Songshan he caught a cold. Could it be because he had too much free time?

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