(Three)_3
Translator: 549690339
Jiang He “Oh”ed, and then sat back down properly.
Bai Lian looked towards Pu Xiaohan again, and before she could speak, Pu Xiaohan gave her an “OK” gesture to reassure her.
Outside the door.
Mao Kun led two underlings, Xiaowu and Xiaoqi, as the three of them squatted silently at the doorway.
“Brother Mao,” Xiaowu rubbed his head, “this place isn’t really for us, though Xiaoqi fits in quite well.”
Xiaoqi had a tender face and looked to be only around fifteen or sixteen.
His hair wasn’t long, and he had neither dyed it nor styled it in any odd way.
If he hadn’t been following behind Mao Kun, he would have looked more like a delicate high school boy.
Mao Kun, with a cigarette between his lips, didn’t argue.
As they were talking, Bai Lian emerged from inside, prompting Mao Kun and his companions to immediately stand up.
“Sis,” Mao Kun scratched his head while introducing the two beside him to Bai Lian, “this is Xiaowu and Xiaoqi, whom I picked up on Backter Street. They both share the surname Mao with me.”
“Sister Bai!” both of them called out in unison.
Xiaowu’s voice, in particular, was loud and clear.
Bai Lian leaned lazily against the wall, still dressed in her finely decorated robe, exuding grace and wilfulness, her snowy face showing a casual indifference.
She folded her arms across her chest, “What’s it about?”
“The plaster you gave me is extremely effective,” Mao Kun said earnestly, “Some people want to buy the recipe. Are you selling it?”
Buy the recipe?
Bai Lian narrowed her eyes, aware that traditional Chinese medicine was declining and Western medicine was prevalent nowadays.
But this was a recipe from the imperial palace, capable of treating sprains and strengthening the body’s foundation—a miraculous drug for martial artists.
Why hadn’t it been handed down?
“Sis?” Mao Kun saw Bai Lian lost in thought and not speaking for a long while.
He quietly reminded her.
“Hmm,” Bai Lian came back to her senses, gazing at Mao Kun for a long moment, her expression tranquil and distant, “Alright, but the name of the recipe must be stated, Imperial Revitalizing Plaster.”
Imperial Revitalizing Plaster?
Despite never having heard of it, Mao Kun thought the name sounded cultured, “I’ll handle this, rest assured. Although I’m not smart, Xiaoqi is knowledgeable about these matters and will make sure you’re not taken advantage of.”
Xiaoqi seemed not to speak much, just standing quietly behind until Mao Kun called him, then he would offer a reserved smile.
Bai Lian just leaned there, looking at Xiaoqi, “How old are you?”
“Seventeen,” Xiaoqi responded.
“Not in school?” Bai Lian tapped her phone screen with her slender fingertips and furrowed her pretty brows.
At that age, he should be in the first year of high school.
“Nine years of compulsory schooling. The orphanage only let him finish middle school and didn’t allow him to continue. Later, he was tricked into Backter Street, and I picked him up,” Mao Kun explained for Xiaoqi as if such things were commonplace, “Also, sis, my godfather wants to meet you. Are you going to Backter Street?”
He looked at Bai Lian, seeking her opinion.
Mao Kun was originally just a small-time hoodlum, and it was just good luck that his godfather took him in.
His godfather had many capable people under him, and like the Poison Scorpion, those people called him “Young Master Mao” to his face but didn’t really regard him, something Mao Kun was well aware of.
Yet in recent days, his godfather had taken a liking to him.
Mao Kun knew it was all because of someone, so when his godfather said he wanted to see Bai Lian, Mao Kun didn’t accept on her behalf.
Bai Lian stood up straight, smoothed out her sleeves gently, but did not reply.
Mao Kun immediately understood what Bai Lian meant. She did not want to meet; he always knew what Bai Lian was thinking.
Suddenly, a ringtone sounded from the phone.
Bai Lian glanced down and saw it was Pu Xiaohan calling; her eyes narrowed slightly, and she answered immediately.
From the other end of the phone came a cacophony of noises and intermittent cursing—
“Ah, Alian, come quickly…”
Bai Lian’s head snapped up, and without a word, she strode into the library, her skirt tracing a proud, cold arc behind her.
Mao Kun and the others exchanged glances, then followed her in.