Zhou Zishu sent a fist hurtling towards Wen Kexing’s clavicle, yet Wen Kexing did not duck or dodge it. Not intending to actually cripple him, Zhou Zishu abruptly shifted his fist two inches upwards, grazing Wen Kexing’s shoulder, but Wen Kexing took the opportunity to grab his arm and say with a wide smile, “Hey, let’s discuss something. I see that you’re also single, so how about the two of us make do with each other?”

When he spoke, he always had that cheeky grin: his eyes curved, as if he was purposely preventing others from reading the look in his eyes, or as if he was purposely preventing others from knowing if he truly meant it or not. Thus Zhou Zishu asked, annoyed, “What would I want you for?”

Wen Kexing came close to him, raised Zhou Zishu’s hand to the height of his own jaw, and gently grazed his hand with the point of his chin. Then he waited for Zhou Zishu to snatch his hand away, as goosebumps rose all over his body, to pluck the mask off Zhou Zishu’s face and toss it to one side, lowering his voice to ask, “What do you think?”

Zhou Zishu rolled his eyes and looked expressionlessly at Wen Kexing for a moment before he started to laugh. The pale regions of his face were far too pale, the striking regions too deep, always giving off an impression of cold-heartedness. It was only when he laughed that his brow relaxed, lines appeared by the corners of his mouth, and faint colour surfaced on his pale lips; for some unknown reason, he came off as slightly adorable. Following suit, this adorable man lowered his voice as well, asking him in reply with a pause after each word, “Keep you, so that I can slaughter you for meat when a famine hits?”

When his low voice like a murmur sounded by his ear, Wen Kexing’s hair stood on its ends; even before he could finely savour what Zhou Zishu had said, he suffered a hard kick, his weakened knee nearly pitching him face-first onto the ground. Zhou Zishu strode away from him, fishing another human skin mask to put on--this one, uglier than the previous, was unsightly enough to anger the heavens.

He swaggered away smugly.

While these two old masters left carefreely to flirt with each other, Zhang Chengling was sitting on the steps alone, contemplating life. He did not know what had happened; when he had finally returned to his senses, Gu Xiang had grabbed him and tossed him to the side. Immediately afterwards, warm blood splashed his face, and screams exploded all around him. On Gu Xiang's pretty face was a murderous expression, the dagger in her hand dripping blood. By her feet was the hand of the black-clothed musician who had been walking around playing her instrument…and the two halves of a small, brightly-patterned, venomous snake.