Huangfu Qing didn't say more, drifting away from the other end of the residence.
At this point, who could rival one's own efforts as a romantic adversary? Such a reminder, as Tang Wanju had said, had borne much weight; it wasn't just about privately setting a rival free but even teaching the rival how to sabotage one's own plans. Regardless of the outcome, seeing Zhao Changhe himself, he could rest easy with a clear conscience.
Anyway, what followed for Tang Wanju was not his concern any longer; it was time to attend to his own matters. As Huangfu Qing flew, his hand had already reached for a mask, and as he passed through the dark alleys and exited, he became like the Vermilion Bird spreading its wings, magic flame sweeping through the night.
