Chapter 8: Still Talking Nonsense?  

“Got it? Hand over anything valuable and get lost!”  

“You…”  

At this moment, the young man who had been knocked to the ground earlier had gotten up and looked at He Wanying, clearly recognizing her.  

“Young Master Li.”  

He Wanying nodded at him.  

“You’re…”  

Young Master Li started to say something but glanced at the bandit on the ground, whose face was now a patchwork of bruises, and immediately shut his mouth.  

“Young Master Li, you’ve misunderstood… This is my husband.”  

He Wanying said.  

“Husband?”  

Young Master Li was taken aback.  

“Now that you mention it, I did hear something about your marriage tournament…”  

“I’m not her husband!”  

“Huh? But…”  

Lin Guiming’s sudden outburst startled Young Master Li.  

“I’m not her husband, got it?”  

Lin Guiming repeated, this time raising his fist in front of Young Master Li’s face.  

“Got it?”  

Young Master Li was about to back down, but then he thought, wait a minute, he was the city lord’s son!  

How could he just roll over without any dignity, accepting whatever someone else said?  

He straightened his back, putting on a righteous air, and said, “Understood, understood…”  

What a joke—only an idiot would argue at a time like this!  

Didn’t he see how badly that bandit got beaten?  

He was only at the Skin Tempering Realm, weaker than the bandit.  

A few punches, and he’d probably be done for.  

“Got it? Then get lost!”  

Lin Guiming waved him off.  

He still had important matters to deal with.  

“Yes, yes…”  

“Wait—”  

Just as Young Master Li lifted his foot to leave, Lin Guiming called him back.  

“What?”  

“Take that guy with you…”  

After the two left, Lin Guiming turned back to He Wanying.  

“Let’s continue where we left off—”  

“Okay, husband!”  

He Wanying’s body jolted, and she responded obediently.  

“…”  

Forget it.  

Lin Guiming decided not to argue with her about this anymore and simply pulled the portrait from his chest.  

“Look at this yourself.”  

“This is…”  

He Wanying took the portrait and examined it closely before saying, “Mother?”  

So the portrait was of her mother?  

That made sense.  

That old geezer hadn’t come down the mountain in over a decade since his little “accident” all those years ago, so naturally, he hadn’t seen his daughter.  

Whatever, it didn’t matter—the effect was the same.  

Lin Guiming was about to explain everything, but He Wanying spoke first.  

“You… Husband, why do you have a portrait of my mother?  

Could it be…”  

Her face paled as if she’d thought of something awful.  

“Could it be… you like my mother?”  

She recalled how Lin Guiming kept denying things and seemed like he had something important to say, making her even more convinced of her assumption.  

“But… but Mother already has Father!  

Even though Mother always calls Father a big pig’s trotter, you can’t…  

And what about me, Wanying…?”  

She muttered to herself in a panic.  

Lin Guiming’s mouth twitched, and so did the corner of his eye.  

He reached out his “sinful” hand toward her delicate little head.  

“Ow—!”  

He Wanying crouched down, clutching her head, tears welling up in her eyes.  

“You… why’d you hit me?”  

“Ow—!”  

“Wahhh”  

After another rap on the head, she hugged her knees, buried her face in them, and stopped talking.  

“Still talking nonsense?”  

Lin Guiming looked at her pitiful, obedient demeanor, thinking this girl only listened when he got tough.  

He Wanying shook her head, tears lingering in her eyes.  

“Listen up, here’s how it is…”