Chapter 9: You Have a Home in Jiangzhou?

“Sir, it hurts. It hurts so much I can’t sleep.” Li Yang pitched her voice into a spoiled whine and burrowed into his arms.

The damp ends of her hair soaked a patch of his shirt.

The fabric went a little sheer where it was wet, half-hiding, half-showing the pure white bra underneath.

“Where does it hurt?” Ma Tai asked, lowering his head to sniff her hair—

Sweet, like her body. Like those cheap popsicles from childhood, loaded with artificial saccharin.

Li Yang took his hand and pressed it to her calf. “Look here. Sunburned so bad the skin’s peeling.”

Then she moved it to her wrist. “And here. All sore.”

Ma Tai’s fingertips were cool, roughened with thin calluses, and they pressed gently against her wrist. “Put anything on it?”

Li Yang: “No. I train every day. When would I have time for that?”

Ma Tai: “What has A Yi been teaching you?”

Li Yang: “He said my grip on the blade was wrong. Corrected it for me, hand over hand.”

Ma Tai: “Hand over hand?”

Ten kilometers away, A Yi started sneezing.

“Mm-hmm~” Li Yang let the tail of it curl upward.

Her fingers tangled with his, and he slid his between hers until their hands were laced tight.

Ma Tai: “What else? Tell me. How exactly did he teach you?”

Safe in the knowledge that he couldn’t see, Li Yang let the gloating spread across her face.

“A Yi also said I need to drive from the side of my waist. He kept his hand right here on my waist, telling me it was this spot…”

She guided their clasped hands to her waist.

The tight tank top traced the curve of it, and through the thin summer fabric she could feel the heat climbing in his palm.

“Here, A Yi said?” Ma Tai squeezed the soft flesh at her waist.

Li Yang: “Yes. His hand was right on this spot. Sir, did A Yi teach it right?”

“Mm.” The sound gave nothing away.

“Also, he said for horse stance I need to engage the inner thighs. My form was off—good thing I was only wearing short shorts, so A Yi felt around and said it was here.”

Again she took his hand, this time to the tender skin of her inner thigh.

“He taught you like this too?” Ma Tai’s voice had gone low. No telling whether it was anger or something else.

“Yeah.” She confirmed it first, then added, all innocence: “Isn’t that right?”

Ten kilometers away, A Yi tripped over his own left foot and went down, sprawled on the ground, an innocent man.

,,,,,,.

Ma Tai: “And did A Yi say how to engage here?”

Li Yang clamped her hand down over his.

Her story could only stretch so far. Any further and someone would end up dead.

A Yi’s life.

She tilted her head, her nose almost grazing his jaw. “Does sir think A Yi teaches well?”

Ma Tai: “Passable.”

Li Yang: “Then how about sir teaches me himself? I don’t want to learn from A Yi anymore.”

Ma Tai pulled his hand back, a smile in his voice. “I’m a cripple. I wouldn’t know how.”

Li Yang’s mouth twitched. As if he didn’t know how.

The man was blind, yes—that was why he moved with difficulty, why he spent so much time in a wheelchair. His face ran a little pale. None of that made him a brittle twig that would snap at a touch.

The opposite. He was thick and hard, built like a wooden post.

His body, his stamina, his endurance, his explosive strength—Li Yang knew them better than anyone.

He could hold her up and pin her against a wall for a full hour. He could carry her by the waist and take her while walking, no problem at all.

He was nothing like the frail, effeminate type—and yet he insisted on cultivating the image of a man who couldn’t swat a fly.

Biding his time. Hiding his edge. Li Yang knew the game.

Truth was, if he were worthless, the Organization would never have bothered planting her at his side.

But whatever the truth was, Li Yang had no desire to see A Yi’s smug face again.

She turned around and straddled his lap, facing him.