The raging fire was covered by ice and snow. Mei supported Zhao Bai as they headed toward the ranch, and the two inevitably pressed close together, yet Mei showed none of a girl's bashfulness.
Her thoughts were still fixed on that annihilating slash from moments ago, and stars seemed to shimmer in her pupils.
Still as frozen ice, swift as thunder.
If this wasn't a Swordmaster, then who was?
An impulse rose within her. Mei truly wanted to take him as her master and learn from him, but she feared Zhao Bai would brush her off and tell her to study how to chop vegetables in the kitchen instead of teaching her real swordsmanship.
She decided to probe indirectly.
"Zhao Bai, your swordsmanship is so refined. Could you tell me which school you inherited it from?"
"Kitchen Style."
"As for being a successor, I'm the founding master."
Zhao Bai seemed to have prepared for this long ago and answered calmly. Mei smiled awkwardly, her steps faltering slightly as she nearly fell to the ground.
Kitchen Style? What kind of idiotic school was that?
Even the name was so perfunctory. He had probably come up with it on the spot to fob her off, hadn't he?
Zhao Bai kept his eyes on Mei's face and read her emotions from her microexpressions. He knew she didn't believe him.
Fine if she didn't believe him.
While Mei was probing Zhao Bai, Zhao Bai was also assessing Mei. He wanted to take her on as his apprentice worker.
Apprentice worker. What a wonderful term.
No wages required—just three meals a day. She could chop vegetables, beat eggs, wash dishes, wipe tables, and handle every job. She was practically walking labor.
That's right, he craved Mei's body.
Her slender wrists, her soft palms... Zhao Bai