Chapter 79: We Are Not Husband and Wife

Qian Lai deftly adjusted the pillow, gently patting it. “Come, lie down,” she said softly.

Just moments ago, the words “patient’s family member” had left Qiao Muting inwardly delighted, though he fought to keep the corners of his mouth from curling upward.

Standing nearby, Zhu Yong knew he was the most unnecessary figure in this picturesque scene. His mind raced, searching for a suitable excuse.

“Well, Old Qiao, I’m not at ease about those two kids. I need to go to the police…”

In those eyes, crimson and icy blue intertwined, wrestling with each other. It was as if a spell echoed beside his ears, reverberating endlessly.

Even while drinking water, Rong Yan’s gaze never strayed from Yao Qingmu. He felt as if he were dreaming, terrified that a blink might make her vanish before his eyes once again.

Sheng Shi could not describe his feelings at this moment. He had dreamed of provoking any emotion in Gu Lanshan—even disappointment or despair. That would mean he was the one giving her such feelings, that he could stir her heart.

Mu Zi’ang looked in the direction Night City had disappeared, heaved a heavy sigh, and walked toward the distant hospital building.

But now that Gu Lanshan was pregnant, he needed to devote all his energy to her. The matter of bringing down Lady Gu was handed entirely to Han Chengchi; he merely had to fan the flames from behind.

Thus, Qian Menglian instinctively scrambled up from the ground, frantically rushing outside without so much as a glance at Wen Jun.

At that moment, he was truly blinded by rage, his chest ablaze with anger, mingled with a touch of disappointment and bitter sorrow.

“Brother…” Mu Fiyan clutched the reins, carried away by the wild horse, speeding like the wind into the distance.

Jun Wuxie felt a trace of shock in his heart. He understood a mother’s love for her son—the same way Qingyue wished to protect Luo Yu.

She instinctively wanted to shrink back, but Imperial Concubine Liu held her fast. No one knew where the pampered concubine had found such strength, yet she dragged her straight to Rong Yan’s bedside.

Hearing Ye Lan speak, Xia Luo, Yan Liuwen, and Niu Dayu did not rush out to help.

Zhao Fusheng certainly was not unwilling, but with their parting imminent, he was not the kind of fool ruled by lust, and would not do anything to ruin the moment.

At the time, Ximen simply drew his black broad sword, gazing at it as if it were alive. He released a burst of sword energy—a single strike that sent Yu Chen retreating without a fight, leaving in dejection to return home. So obsessed with swordsmanship, he dared not touch the treasured blade again for four years and three months.

Ordinary masters who reach the profound realm can achieve a level where not even a fly can land on them, striking as if hanging a painting. Cui Hao had already reached such finesse, fortified further by the legendary Eighteen Throws Shielding the Garment. With a jolt, his defenses became flawless, leaving not a single gap.

He stood tall, dignified, square jaw and broad ears, crowned with a high hat. With a frown, he exuded an innate authority, yet upon seeing Imperial Treasure, he melted like an iceberg, his eyes filled with indulgence.

Cherry blossoms rained down around Dimon, then gathered and dispersed, transforming into seven or eight clones of Hattori Hanzo, stabbing in unison.

After arranging his belongings, the wraith continued on his journey. As before, he reached the exit once more. The light in the sky grew brighter; he knew he had successfully taken another shortcut.

Though he had been wounded in many battles, he always endured. Before meeting Ye Lan again, he felt there was no hardship in the world he could not overcome.

“I wonder where that Void Worm found a fragment of the mirrored realm,” she murmured, reaching toward the moon in the sky and lightly plucking at it.