Yan Hui disliked assassins, and he disliked bandits as well.
He was a refined gentleman, pampered since childhood—the young master of a wealthy household.
Seeing him remain so silent, Bao Xiaoqin continued, "This one is called Soul Hook Hand. That one is Sword Eighteen, the lowest-ranked member of the Seventh Tower..."
After introducing the three men before her one by one, she looked toward Hua Tian, smiled faintly, and added, "It's just a pity Hu Yulou has gone chasing skirts. I'm afraid he won't have time to see you today."
Hua Tian stood at the doorway, his gaze moving back and forth between Yan Hui and Bao Xiaoqin.
Strangely enough, he no longer seemed to be in any hurry.
He simply watched Bao Xiaoqin lift that cup of wine to Yan Hui's lips as he leaned against the headboard, feeding him a sip. Her movements were practiced and fluid.
As though she had done it hundreds, thousands of times—intimate as husband and wife.
Bao Xiaoqin even had half her body pressed against Yan Hui's, her soft breast lightly brushing his arm.
The sight before them was truly tantalizing—if Hua Tian had not met this woman before and known that she was Hu Yulou's wife, he might have mistaken Yan Hui for Hu Yulou himself.
Yan Hui's brow furrowed slightly, but he did not push Bao Xiaoqin away.
Instead, he looked as though he was enjoying it. After taking a sip of wine, he looked at Hua Tian and asked, "What important matter do you have with him?"
Soul Hook Hand gave a wicked smile. "If Hu Yulou knew you were feeding wine to some wild man, do you think he'd die of rage?"
Sword Eighteen chuckled. "You're quite the loose woman. Could it be that you've been keeping a male