No one had lived past fifty.
Perhaps he truly was the star of calamity.
Yu Xiheng stood at the entrance to the rooftop, not moving forward.
Si Fuqing brewed medicine using the oldest method, fanning the fire to control its heat.
She keenly sensed the heavy aura around the man.
"What's wrong? Not in a good mood?" Si Fuqing sat down beside him, hesitating for a moment. "How about I let you pat my head?"
Yu Xiheng's expression froze. He looked up, meeting the girl's fox-like eyes, and suddenly smiled. "Just pat head?"
"Having my head patted is already a privilege, isn't it?" Si Fuqing glanced at him. "I don't let just anyone pat my head."
A person's head, like their back, was a vulnerable spot.
She had spent years walking the edge of a knife and wouldn't expose her weaknesses easily.
Si Fuqing continued, "Let me tell you, this is a rare opportunity."