Midnight.0

Tang Wanzhuang sat beneath the lamp, draped in the thick fur coat she had worn when they first met, reviewing documents.0

The coughing had stopped. The last treatment Zhao Changhe had given her before leaving was enough to sustain her for at least a year.0

However, overwork had taken its toll. Her frail frame still lacked the vitality of a martial artist, her susceptibility to cold and general weakness prompting Baoqin to shake her head in disapproval.0

She’s at the third layer of the Profound Mysteries, yet she looks to be even more delicate than me when I was only at the third layer of the Profound Gate.0

Baoqin was no longer a child. At eighteen, she was a poised young woman, and her cultivation had reached the seventh layer of the Profound Gate; her cold demeanor now lent her a formidable air. She could be sent out to handle affairs of the jianghu. When Zhao Changhe first encountered her, she had already reached the fifth layer of the Profound Gate, while he was only at the fourth. His cultivation was below her back then, yet whether it was back then or now, he mistakenly regarded her as a defenseless maid all the same.0

His misconceptions did not end there. He also misunderstood Tang Wanzhuang.0

For instance, he found it perfectly natural that Tang Wanzhuang and Tang Buqi argued. Zhao Changhe had a slightly better grasp of...0