"This scene isn't anything like what I imagined..."
Yuankong lay on the ground, gazing at the snow swirling before him as he muttered his complaint.
Qian Qing drew a deep breath. Though she was still somewhat stirred up, she was doing much better than she had imagined. She walked steadily to Yuankong's side and looked down at him, still lying on the ground:
"Then what did you imagine? The same as when we were little?"
"Could we?" Yuankong asked.
Sandong said nothing and silently covered its eyes.
The next moment, Yuankong's pained grunt rang out.
Qian Qing demanded sharply:
"Who taught you to say goodbye by leaving a note at the head of the bed with ink so faint I couldn't tell what the hell you'd written? And in writing as tiny as a fly's head, at that."
"Wasn't that because I'd run out of ink? I had a bit too much to say, so I wrote smaller."
"Didn't it occur to you that I wouldn't be able to read what you wrote? I thought you were going off to your death! Aren't you a Golden Core cultivator? I'd have credited you with some brains if you'd carved it into the floor."
"Wasn't the house rented...? Carving into the floor would've been so rude."
"And writing your farewell note like that was polite?"
"I thought you'd be able to understand it. After all, I raised you myself."
"Hah?! Then guess what I want to do right now?"
"...Hit me?"
"You guessed right!"
Another pained grunt came from Yuankong.
After hearing that, Sandong silently opened its eyes and saw Yuankong curled into a ball on the ground, his face horribly contorted.
It hadn't expected Qian Qing to have such a different side to her.
Qian Qing let out a soft breath.