Several days later, Fang Han carried two wooden boxes and once again came to Qi Fang's home with the disguised Meng Zhao.
Seeing Qi Fang again, Fang Han found it somewhat surprising. This woman had somehow become even more beautiful. He did not know why, but her whole body seemed dewy and radiant, matchlessly gorgeous, making him feel as though he might sink into her depths at a single glance.
Still young, he had not noticed at all that whenever Qi Fang occasionally looked at the disguised Meng Zhao, there was more burning passion and attachment in her gaze.
Meng Zhao, on the other hand, appeared rather calm. These past few days, he and Qi Fang had indulged in nightly revelry. Though he was still young, he was, after all, a martial artist with formidable strength, and had thoroughly fed this beautiful young married woman.
Physically, she had been nourished; psychologically, she had gained someone to rely on and a sense of security. Naturally, her whole person had changed from the inside out. For now, she still wore old-fashioned clothes, but once she changed into splendid garments and adorned herself with some jewelry, her beauty could rise several notches further.
A true peerless beauty needed neither styling nor makeup nor any external adornment to be breathtakingly lovely and make hearts stir.
Without question, Qi Fang was such a beauty. Otherwise, she would not have repeatedly drawn the covetous eyes of others.
After entering the house, Fang Han opened the two wooden boxes. Inside were two heads: those of Qi Fang's gambler husband and Boss Zhu.
Killing those two had truly cost Fang Han considerable effort. He had even suffered a minor injury, his arm slashed by Boss Zhu and still wrapped in bandages.
Qi Fang had long since discussed everything