Chapter 71
Chapter 71
After Siran’s armor had been removed, Shengsheng asked, “Do you still want this?”
Faced with such an odd question, Siran paused for only a moment before answering solemnly, “If Shengsheng likes it, then I give it to you.”
Shengsheng, who was calculating how much the set might fetch, looked deeply embarrassed.
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly.”
*Thanks, Xiao Ming. What a good son.*
Looking down at his very young “mother,” Siran shook his head considerately.
“Keep it, Shengsheng. I no longer need it.”
Thus San Zhang received a heavy suit of armor and a mission from Shengsheng:
Find a way to sell it.
He was a thief. When it came to fencing goods, no one knew the business better.
Shengsheng truly excelled at making full use of every resource.
Before leaving the mountain, however, San could not resist asking, “Chief, aren’t you afraid I’ll run?”
An adorable smile spread across her chubby little face. “Don’t worry. If you run, you absolutely won’t survive three days.”
San shuddered. Remembering her arsenal of evil arts, he immediately abandoned all thoughts of escape.
* * *
With the dispute between soldiers and bandits resolved, Shengsheng next had to address the former chiefs of the thirty-three strongholds on Feng Mountain, who had invaded her territory to steal.
Unfortunately, when all of them were finally rounded up, some had gone mad, others had become idiots, and one remained unconscious and would not wake.
Shengsheng had no choice but to imprison them for the moment and wait until the unconscious one recovered.
Then something occurred to her.
*A-Pang, what exactly does that “short-video sound-effect lock” I exchanged from you do?*
A-Pang did not answer. They told her to see for herself.
Shengsheng glanced at the fear in the surrounding bandits’ eyes, and her mouth twitched.
Wonderful. They had probably decided she had used some new evil spell.
She went alone to the storehouse.
The lock A-Pang provided looked completely ordinary. Nothing in its appearance suggested anything unusual.
Shengsheng tentatively touched it.
A shrill voice immediately burst out.
“Heartbreaker! You finally came! Hurry and release my darling Brother Key! My butthole needs disinfecting!”
Shengsheng stared.
This vehicle was not headed to kindergarten. Let her off immediately.
They were on solid ground, so when Shengsheng summoned A-Pang, she gave them a tremendous slap.
A-Pang clutched their furry head, aggrieved.
*Why did you hit me?*
Shengsheng smiled without warmth. *Corrupted at such a tender age. If I don’t hit you, who should I hit?*
A-Pang was too embarrassed to admit they were already ninety-nine.
Shengsheng ultimately left the wretched lock in place. She had paid System Points for it, after all, and could not waste them. She would simply issue strict orders that no one except her was permitted to come here.
At the thought of “in the future,” Shengsheng’s steps paused.
She had been foolish. What future did she have with these people?
Even if Siran did not destroy Mount Liang, she meant to disband the bandit den. People ought to find an honest road through life. Robbery could never provide a lasting livelihood.
Since she had disrupted their lives, she ought to consider where they would go afterward.
With that thought, a plan took shape.
As Shengsheng followed the path away from the storehouse, her short stature made it easy to notice things on the ground.
She walked over and picked up a small sapphire-blue object.
A mangy dog with an infuriating grin stared back at her.
From this spot, one could easily hear any noise near the storehouse.
* * *
When Shengsheng returned to her room, she immediately saw the man reclining against the bed.
“Does it still hurt?” she asked.
Siran gave her a pale smile and shook his head. “It isn’t too painful now. Don’t worry, Shengsheng… Cough… cough…”
After only a few words, he began coughing with alarming violence, as though he might lose consciousness at any moment. The sight alone made it impossible to chastise him.
Shengsheng kicked off her shoes, scrambled onto the bed, and stood face-to-face with the seated Siran.
“Is that so? It doesn’t hurt very much?” she asked gently.
As she spoke, she exaggeratedly swayed her waist. Against her tiny body, the oversized purse hanging there was impossible to miss.
Siran fell silent.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have followed you,” he said dispiritedly.
Shengsheng patted his dog head with one small hand. “Why did you follow me?”
Siran lifted his face and nuzzled his straight nose against her palm. “I wanted to know what you were doing.”
She snatched her hand back.
His eyes dimmed. He assumed she still found him repulsive.
*You really shouldn’t nuzzle that. I touched the wretched lock’s butthole and haven’t washed my hands.*
Siran visibly froze.
She touched what?
Shengsheng gave him no time to contemplate that filth.
“Could you stop acting so much like a puppy?”
Recovering, Siran swept out one long arm and encircled her. He rubbed his face against her soft cheek, then placed his lips beside her ear.
Warm breath brushed Shengsheng’s sensitive skin, tickling it. Before she could push him away, a deep, magnetic voice whispered,
“Woof.”
Siran smiled where she could not see, then released her, expecting a flustered or scarlet face.
A tiny hand landed on his head and casually ruffled his hair.
“Good dog,” said her childish voice.
Siran stared.
He had been careless.
He cast her an aggrieved look, unable to avoid a sense of defeat.
*Trying to flirt with me? Practice more, my son.*
Shengsheng smiled maternally, entirely unaware what those words made him think.
Suppressing the darkness in his heart, Siran answered silently:
Gladly. He would practice on Shengsheng often.
She returned the purse, ordered him to rest and stop “mischievously” following her, then closed the door behind her. Her expression changed at once.
Siran had definitely heard the lock. And there was the matter of the medicine. Why had he not asked her about any of it?
Would a normal ancient man react this calmly to such bizarre, terrifying things?
Suppressing her doubts, Shengsheng raised her troubled gaze to the sky.
She stared upward at a forty-five-degree angle of sorrow.
Such a scene deserved a melancholy poem. Instead, she looked up and suddenly met a pair of merciful eyes in the heavens.
Guanyin?