...
As Yan Xiaobao entered the room, the man who was seated lifted his head. When his eyes landed on the alert young man, his face bloomed into a radiant smile.
The man in the room, much like Deng Wu, was also young—twenty years old, maybe. His face was strikingly handsome. His long black hair was bound by intricately crafted white jade ornaments, his skin was as pure as fresh snow, and his eyes reminded one of a beautiful Phoenix—black like the midnight sky without moonlight.
This handsome man was smiling as he conversed with Deng Wu and Xu Biao, but as Yan Xiaobao walked through the doorway, his smile gradually widened.
"Hello!" he called out. "My name is Zhong Hui. I apologize for interrupting you and your companions, but I was alone, and noticing someone next door, how could I resist paying a visit?"
It was the same friendliness he always showed. Although he appeared sincere, the more Zhong Hui spoke, the more an unsettling feeling crept into Yan Xiaobao's heart.
