Player 0

Wu Qiong gently patted Miss Chahua's back—neither too distant nor too intimate.

He asked carefully, "Chahua, would you like to be my daughter?"

"Yes!" Miss Chahua agreed without hesitation. "I never want to leave you, Daoist!"

"Good." Wu Qiong let go of her hand and led her toward the inner room. "Come with me, I'll comb your hair."

"Comb my hair?" Miss Chahua touched her head. "Is it messy?"

"No," Wu Qiong said. "This is a tradition between me and all my children. Anyone who becomes my daughter—I comb their hair myself."

Miss Chahua thought for a moment and asked curiously, "Then how come I've never seen you comb Miss Bai's hair?"

Instantly, a thousand galloping grass mud horses trampled through Wu Qiong's heart.

When Bai Shuang was little, Wu Qiong used to fuss over making her look beautiful every day. But she hated the hassle—always kept her hair short, never giving him the chance to brush or style it.

Outside the door, Bai Shuang was also mentally trampled by ten thousand wild horses.

When she was little, Wu Qiong treated her hair like his mortal enemy. Despite his limited wisdom, he spent every morning fussing over his own waist-length hair.

Worse still, whatever hairstyle he wore, he'd make Bai Shuang wear the same.

She couldn't bear it, screamed for the old City Lord Bai to chop it all off—and finally, peace was restored.

Inside, Wu Qiong led Miss Chahua to the vanity and had her sit. Standing behind her, he gently loosened her hair.

Chahua's eyes never left the mirror—following Wu Qiong's every move like a playful thief.

Whenever Wu Qiong lifted a lock of her hair, her gaze followed.

Every day she admired Wu Qiong's intricate hairstyles. Never did she imagine that one day, she'd be the one enjoying his comb's careful touch.

She couldn't help but ask, "When did Daoist start learning how to comb hair?"

Wu Qiong replied with a faint smile, "I became a monk as a child—have combed my own hair ever since."

He didn't create a complicated style. With a few gentle twists, Miss Chahua suddenly looked elegant and graceful.

Wu Qiong smiled. "You're my daughter now. Why are you still calling me 'Daoist'? Call me godfather."

Miss Chahua blushed again, then softly whispered, "Godfather."

Wu Qiong smiled with closed lips. Though he stood behind her, that ethereal smile was visible in the mirror.

Miss Chahua knew Wu Qiong was someone beyond her reach. But now that she had a legitimate reason to stay by his side, bask in his love—she was already content.

Wu Qiong lived up to his reputation as a master of fine hands. His skills weren't limited to the operating table; he handled hair with the same ease and finesse.

In less than ten minutes, Miss Chahua looked like a fairy-tale princess.

Wu Qiong picked up a hairpin from the vanity and gently pinned it in place. "Our Chahua is a natural beauty—like a lotus in clear water, unadorned and pure."

A few words of praise made Chahua's heart dance with joy like a little deer frolicking in spring.

Wu Qiong helped her up and walked her to the door. "This hairpin was personally blessed by me. Don't take it off tonight. Let it stay on overnight, and our pact will be sealed tomorrow."

"Really?" Miss Chahua's smile bloomed like a flower. "Thank you, godfather! I'll make sure it stays perfectly on all night!"

"Good girl," Wu Qiong nodded in satisfaction. "Now I have one more daughter."

After a long series of affectionate exchanges, Miss Chahua finally bounced out of the room with her beautiful new hairstyle.

Everything that happened in the inner room, Bai Shuang saw with her own eyes.

"Well, well," Bai Shuang clapped as she entered, "No wonder so many women used to cry and beg to warm your bed. I used to think they were blind—turns out they weren't just blind, they were brain-dead too."

Wu Qiong's smile faded. He stepped forward and took Bai Shuang's hand.

He gave it a firm squeeze, and Bai Shuang instantly felt something slip into her palm.

She reacted quickly, squeezed his hand back, and received the item Wu Qiong secretly passed to her.

He shot her a meaningful look and left the room without another word.

Well played! Bai Shuang thought to herself.

If there were ever a true silent killer—it would be Wu Qiong.

One move. No blood, no mess.

Poor Miss Chahua, a sheltered young girl, had no idea she'd already fallen victim to Wu Qiong's blade.

That night, Miss Chahua stared at the mirror for ages, especially admiring the hairpin Wu Qiong had given her.

Wu Qiong wasn't the most handsome man, but he knew how to present himself. With a little effort, he could make a 7 out of 10 face look like a perfect 10.

The hairpin he gifted Chahua was perfect—not too flashy, not too plain.

Size, color, style—everything just right.

It was so beautiful that she wouldn't mind wearing it for the rest of her life.

Meanwhile, Wu Qiong sat alone in his bedroom. He set up a small low table and leisurely brewed a pot of fragrant tea.

The aroma drifted gently in the air, soft white wisps curling upward.

"Player Zero," Wu Qiong poured a cup of tea across the table and said calmly, "Would you care to join me for a cup?"

He poured himself a cup as well, then gently lifted it and took small sips.

In the blink of an eye, a stunning, radiant woman appeared across the table.

She wore a crimson celestial robe, with delicate eyes and cherry lips. Leaning on her hand, she gazed intently at Wu Qiong.

Wu Qiong smiled politely. This woman, in terms of appearance, absolutely suited his tastes.

Elegant, not gaudy. Dazzling, not vulgar.

Had Player Zero shown up this morning in this form to flirt with him, Wu Qiong might have given in, if only half-heartedly.

Unfortunately, Player Zero had chosen to appear as a giant angry man—a wrathful Titan.

Wu Qiong's taste wasn't so twisted that he could find delight in a furious giant, so no matter how forceful Player Zero was, he never gave in.

Now, the beauty's eyes sparkled with desire—burning hot like desert fire.

Wu Qiong sipped his tea, speaking casually: "I'm just a simple monk. I don't understand why you favor me so."

The woman traced the rim of her cup with delicate fingers. Looking at him, she said softly, "Love knows no reason, only depth."

Wu Qiong leaned back lazily on one elbow. "If you had to choose—me or Whale Fall City—which would it be?"

The woman boldly reached out and stroked his cheek with silky fingertips. "Why ask? I'd choose you, of course."

Wu Qiong raised an eyebrow. "Then how about we strike a deal?"

She matched his look. "What kind of deal?"

Wu Qiong took another sip of tea and said, "In this life, I'll stay with you—but you return Whale Fall City to Shuang'er."

The woman chuckled. "You misunderstand. I'm not interested in being City Lord. The only thing I care about... is you. Even a proud man won't accept food thrown at him in pity. One day, I'll make you fall in love with me—willingly, truly. Not out of some reluctant compromise."