Hanshan bowed his head in reverence.
“Kind Sir, I would be most grateful if you could indeed save my Xi’er. I will promise you anything.”
The man did not seem to be lying in his trepidation. His head was damp from worrying, and on a closer look, Dongyue realised he had a few white hairs. Of course, Dongyue himself had a full head of silvery hair, but that was in no way connected to anxiety. He was born with it, but to others, it scared them to see a man with such hair. Dyeing did not even work, and he resorted to wearing hats to cover the absurdity of his hair.
“I told you that I would help you on one condition,” Dongyue repeated.
His strong arm did not leave Xiyu’s shoulder, but the cold woman did not seem to care, or so, Hanshan didn’t know. Maybe, he thought, she had finally met her
