For the 101st time, Gyuro turned his head with a mournful expression and said angrily, "I hate you too, making me pull the cart."
When she gets angry, she starts swearing.
The young master on the cart suddenly burst out laughing, "How could Leng Wushuang like you, such a rude woman?"
Isoro suddenly paused in his steps.
Much later, she answered in a muffled voice, "He never liked me; it was always me who fell in love with him at first sight."
The car was completely silent.
Isoro dragged the cart, moving with great pain, sweat dripping from his forehead.
"This young master is feeling quite uncomfortable from all the jostling, I need to rest," the boy on the cart suddenly announced, his tone domineering and brooking no refusal.
Ichiro was very relieved. He threw off the handlebars and gasped for breath.
"Truly utterly useless." The young master on the cart spoke with a cool, mocking tone. Lying there, he glanced sideways, giving off a somewhat aloof and unparalleled air.
Ishiro immediately became infatuated.
He casually handed over the water bottle, saying, "Your lips are all cracked, have some water."
The boy in the car turned his head and said angrily in an awkward manner, "I just like the way my mouth looks when it's wide open, what's it to you?"
He was actually incredibly thirsty, but he stubbornly refused to drink the water.
Ichiro took a few more sips, then suddenly laughed and said, "I know, why aren't you drinking?"
The boy in the car immediately turned ashen-faced and roared, "Don't say it!" He paused, then added, "If you do, I'll kill you."
Isoro chuckled secretly, his eyes narrowing into slits, and said, "I won't say anything, but even if you don't drink water, you'll still have that kind of trouble. Are you going to hide it all on your person?"
The boy in the car could no longer hold back and roared in despair, "Xiao Wushilang..."
A flock of startled birds immediately took flight from the woods, fluttering around several times before landing again.
"Alright, alright, I won't say it, I won't say it." Isoro reached out, tore off a piece of fabric, dampened it slightly, and moistened the boy's lips. He then asked seriously, "When will you recover?"
The young man in the car, who had been calm when she touched the corner of her lips, suddenly became angry upon hearing her question and said indignantly, "It can't be restored unless you remove the two medicines from this body."
"So you're just going to lie there like that and let me pull you?!" Ishiro jumped up half a meter, angrily saying, "I still have to go find Leng Wushuang, I don't have time to play with you."
The boy on the cart broke down once again, veins bulging on his forehead and neck, roaring, "You said you'd play with me?! How did you play? How did you manage to make me like this?"
Isoro chuckled and patted him on the shoulder, saying, "Don't worry, I'll take responsibility for you until you can be independent."
The boy in the car gave a cold snort and replied, "It won't take you long, at most three or four days, before I can act on my own."
Isoro immediately felt relieved and smiled broadly, saying, "That's excellent, that's excellent. Then I can leave with peace of mind."
Seeing her so happy, the boy in the car felt his anger rise again, and he gritted his teeth and sneered, "How can that be? You've been playing with me all this time, I have to play along with you too."
Ishiro immediately shut up, stood silently in front of the cart, pulled up the two handles, and pulled the cart like an old ox.
“I said…” The boy on the cart turned his head and called to Wu Shilang, “Slow down, it’s giving me a headache. Also, what folk songs do you know? Give me a little something to sing!”
Isoro, pulling his cart, his face tense, was deep in thought. After a long while, he suddenly looked up and howled, "The mountain lily...that one blooms..."
The sound was so loud and the voice so deep that it shook the original suggestion in the car.
After a long while, she struggled and slammed her hand against the car, angrily shouting, "Are you even a woman? Can't you sing something gentler?!"
Isoro looked at him with a troubled expression, and said with a hint of embarrassment, "There's a gentler one, would you like to hear it?"
The person in the car nodded reluctantly.
After thinking for a while, he asked again, "What song?"
This woman is too strange to be treated with common sense.
“Eighteen Touches,” Wu Shilang replied with a smile, looking quite proud. She had spent a full six months learning this song from Brother 39; it was very difficult to sing, mainly because the lyrics were hard to memorize.
"Then... I think I'd better not." Someone on the bus replied to her with a flushed face and difficulty.
Huh? Why not? It sounds really nice. Ichiro looked at the guy on the cart with his face flushed red, scratched his head, and was very puzzled.
“But you’ve really stirred up my emotions while I’m singing, so I have to finish the song,” Ishiro said, clearly unconvinced.
Before the passengers on the bus could answer, he started singing at the top of his lungs: "I touched and touched, and finally touched the tip of the girl's hair..."
The boy in white on the cart closed his eyes, looking as if he was about to jump off, deeply regretting his absurd suggestion.
Okay, let's just get through this one round!
"Touch, touch..." Ishiro got so into it that he couldn't help but sing it many times along the way, more than once...
They sang until they reached an inn, a total of eighteen times.
The boy in white on the cart was so provoked by her that he was on the verge of biting his tongue and committing suicide.
Standing by the window of the inn was a figure in pale purple, looking haggard. His slender fingers pressed anxiously against his temples, rubbing them restlessly. He was filled with regret, constantly annoyed by his sudden outburst of spoiled brat temper, which had pushed the person he cherished into danger.
"Any news from over there?"
The guard glanced cautiously at his young master out of the corner of his eye and replied nervously, "We haven't found them yet. They probably have help and are no longer in town."
Luo Jinfeng frowned and remained silent.
The guard in black cautiously advised, "Young Master, you haven't eaten for a day. I'm afraid this is not good for your health."
Young Master Luo turned around, sighed softly, and said, "I really can't eat."
The wind behind him picked up a bit more, blowing his hair into a tangled mess. At the same time, a mournful erhu melody immediately followed, making Young Master Luo even more desolate.
"No background today!" Young Master Luo suddenly flew into a rage, turned around, pointed his index finger at the window, and roared, "Anyone playing the erhu or blowing air, go back to the manor and face the wall for three days."
At a time when Young Master Luo is in such pain, there are still people who are kicking him while he's down and creating a sense of tragedy. It's obvious they don't want to stay in this business anymore.
Silence immediately fell outside the window; there was no wind and no sound.
Only Qi Liu remained, his lips twitching as he lowered his head.
After a long while, Young Master Luo, who had been facing away from the house, turned around and asked in a more somber tone, "Am I not haggard or in enough pain today?"
Riding Six remained silent, head bowed.
"With my current tragic state, do I really need any background?!"
Qi Liu remained silent, head bowed, holding his breath.
Sure enough, the next moment, Young Master Luo's spoiled temper flared up again. He turned around with a smile and said brightly, "I'll give you one more day. If you can't find them, I'll... go on a hunger strike."
Riding the Sixth Company, not daring to raise his head, he darted away in a flash, his feet barely touching the ground.
Just kidding, if the young master goes on a hunger strike, the sky will fall. There's no way we'll find Wushilang and the others in a day.
At that moment, Isoro and a young man in white on a cart were lying in an abandoned stable in the inn, looking up at the sky and counting the stars.
"Why didn't you bring enough money with you when you came out?"
Gritting his teeth, Isoro rolled around on the dry firewood.
One of the men on the cart, with a stern face, looked up at the sky and muttered, "So you have to pay for everything..."
You bastard!
Isoro almost threw him off the cart.
"Don't you know those things cost money?"
Ichiro's response was silence.
After a long while, Ishiro couldn't help but ask, "Hey, what's your relationship with Leng Wushuang? How come you look so alike?"
The boy on the cart was silent for a while, then suddenly said, "I don't call you 'Hey,' but I, the Palace Master, allow you to call me 'Ruthless.'"
"Alright, Ruthless, what is your relationship with Wushuang?"
Isoro persisted, asking further questions.
"It's alright." One of the people on the cart immediately closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep, and ignored Ichiro completely.
"Hey? How could you do this? You start a conversation, but then leave me speechless." Isoro punched the car, furious. "You're so immoral."
Her response was a cold, even breathing.
"That's really immoral," Goruro muttered, rolled over, and went far away, hugging the straw, smacking his lips, and began to fall asleep.
Leng Wuqing slowly opened his eyes on the cart, his pupils reflecting the stars in the sky, sparkling. A habitual smile appeared on his lips as he sighed, "Leng Wushuang... Leng Wushuang, that person, he should be considered my brother, right?"
Under the moonlight, a melancholy expression gradually appeared on his face, filled with deep loneliness, and the smile on his lips slowly turned bitter.
That person must be his family member...
Dry firewood is certainly not a good place to sleep, and now that it's autumn and the weather is getting cold, by midnight, Goruro was so cold that he huddled up in a ball.
A cold wind swept in, seeping in through the hem of her clothes, gradually driving away her deep sleepiness.
"Hey, why aren't you cold?" Ichiro saw Leng Wuqing staring at the stars with a contorted expression on his face on the cart. "Why aren't you sleeping?"
She asked two questions, but ruthlessly ignored them.
The wind blew through the dry firewood, making a hollow rolling sound.
“Someone is approaching, help me up,” Leng Wuqing on the cart bit his lip, raised his right hand, and tried to support himself. “Quick, help me up.”
"Huh? You can move your hand now?" Igoro's eyes widened as he watched him prop himself up and struggle to tumble off the cart.
"Let's not talk about that now." The cold-blooded man in white pricked up his ears warily, his eyes flashing with a chilling light. "Help me to my feet."
Ishiro leaned over, kicked his arm, spat at him viciously, and said angrily, "I've been pulling the cart all day, and my hands are still shaking. What right do you have to order me around?"
He's only good because he has a face that's unparalleled; otherwise, I probably wouldn't even bother to look at him.
"Help me up." He leaned against the wall of the stable, trying to stand up on his own strength, cold sweat sliding down his pale face. "If you help me up, I will help you find Leng Wushuang."
Upon hearing this, Ishiro's sleepy eyes immediately brightened, and she reached out to lift him up from under his armpits. He was much taller than Ishiro, and once he stood up, all his weight pressed down on her.
Isoro was held tightly in his arms, barely able to breathe, and was furious, about to explode.
"Oh, so our young master has this kind of taste."
"What a high-pitched voice!" Wu Shilang couldn't help but look in the direction of the sound. Outside the stable, in the cool moonlight, stood three or four Miao people dressed in black. Because of the moonlight, Wu Shilang could even see the blue patterns on their faces.
"Only four came this time?" Leng Wuqing's face was relaxed, with a smile on his lips. Under the moonlight, his features were exquisite. Although he was disheveled, he still had a noble air about him.
His arm tightened slightly, subtly weaving Isoro into the back of his body.