About half an hour had passed.
When Zhang Mingqi stirred awake, still groggy, Wei Yanchi was still grinning foolishly at the letter, his expression soft with affection.
To Zhang Mingqi, Wei Yanchi now looked exactly like one of those deeply sentimental souls who appeared in Western poetry.
Somewhat speechless, she shifted her position and closed her eyes to rest.
It was rare to see him like this.
Wei Yanchi had grown up spoiled. In fact, every elder at the Martial Arts Hall had indulged him to some degree. Ever since childhood, he had done whatever he wanted and gotten whatever he asked for, which had inevitably left him with a lawless streak.
Sometimes Zhang Mingqi thought someone really ought to teach him a hard lesson, just to knock some of that arrogance and audacity out of him.
Zhang Mingqi knew Wei Yanchi well.
Wei Yanchi had rarely suffered setbacks in his life. Most of the time, everything had gone smoothly for him. He was gifted, and the Martial Arts Hall was there to back him up, so naturally, he carried himself with both talent and pride.
One might call running into danger, getting injured, or being tricked a setback, but Wei Yanchi cared about none of those things. He might even find them entertaining, so he never considered them setbacks.
Her junior fellow disciple really was an eccentric, conceited fellow. He seemed to have his own grip on everything, and he did not mind even if he frequently landed himself in danger.
Zhang Mingqi could not quite sum up Wei Yanchi's personality, but she knew there was arrogance in his nature...
Zhang Mingqi remembered it clearly. When Wei Yanchi was eighteen, something major had happened in their area-a powerful ghost had emerged in the mountains, and its resentment had affected