"": 200, "": "", "": "If they really fought to the death, Mo Qian would probably be the one to die.
But Luo Bin felt that making use of him offered more benefits than fighting him.
Gu Yiren took a deep breath to steady her emotions.
She said softly, "You're right. I just need to listen to you. I'll bring out the food. You've been walking for so long, you must be hungry."
Gu Yiren hurried into the kitchen.
Two bowls of rice, a plate of steamed salted pork, and a plate of stir-fried amaranth.
The amaranth had released red juices, while the fatty portions of the salted pork were yellowish. They reminded Luo Bin of the blood and fat on the wall, and his stomach churned again.
The chunks of lung and heart tumbled in the boiling liquid, shrinking and tightening as they cooked.
Freshly sliced liver and scored kidneys lay on a plate, looking all the more appetizing.
The soup pot was copper, and the table beneath it was octagonal, like a bagua table. No, it was precisely the shape of the bagua.
A woman sat beside the table, palms pressed together and eyes closed, murmuring under her breath.
Her hair had been combed neatly and pinned into an immaculate bun at the back of her head.
Her clothes were white, though age had left them slightly yellowed.
She opened her eyes, raised her hand, and picked up her chopsticks.
She picked up slices of liver and kidney and dipped them into the water to blanch.
Then she quickly lifted them out again, leaving traces of blood, and placed them in a bowl.
She did not eat any of it herself. Instead, she made a strange sound, and two sleek black cats darted out