"No, there was nothing between us. We were completely innocent." Song Qingshu instinctively denied it outright. Admitting something like that would just be asking for trouble.
But Huo Qingtong became annoyed. "There are barely a few truthful words in that mouth of yours. Back at the Tieyan Tribe, who was the one standing outside the door, cleaning up after you and Yalixian? You were so loud people could hear you from hundreds of meters away!"
Song Qingshu remembered, and immediately felt awkward. No wonder Huo Qingtong had been so formidable on the battlefield—she was far too cunning, even capable of baiting him into a trap. He could only explain sheepishly, "I've used too many identities over the years. I didn't remember right away. I wasn't trying to deceive you."
Huo Qingtong rolled her eyes at him. "Enough, enough. I always knew you were a shameless womanizer anyway. I never had very high expectations of you in that regard."
Song Qingshu chuckled to himself. You really can't build yourself up too much. Why had so many famous people in his previous life ruined their reputations? Because they were always trying to project themselves as devoted husbands, devoted wives, or faithful lovers. Once something came to light, their whole image was destroyed. Someone like him, on the other hand, had always been seen as a scumbag, so everyone naturally expected little of him. If he occasionally showed devotion, it even counted in his favor.
The two of them made their way to Yalixian and Aman's residence. The moment they pushed open the door, several blades came chopping toward them.
Song Qingshu had long sensed people inside. With a sweep of his sleeve, he sent the blades flying to the ground.
"Stop! It's Miss Huo!" one of them cried.
"Miss Huo!"
"Miss Huo