“They’re all pasts best left unmentioned. If you ask about them, aren’t you just reopening her old wounds?” Back then, wrapped in happiness, she had no idea what that felt like.

These past few years…

She understands now.

Just like her older brother—no need to mention others; even a single glance at the Wanxi Bookstore, or a single glance at Sister Lin Xi, was enough to reopen that enormous scar on her own.

It hurt so much that her whole body ached.

Fortunately, seeing how well Sister Lin Xi is doing these days brings her some comfort, however small.

“She’s not the kind of person who’s afraid of having her scars exposed,” Jiang Feng said softly. When it came to An Le, he had two indelible impressions: an indestructible survivor and a stubborn mule who wouldn’t listen.

Ming Yue shook her head. “Forget it. She seems to be doing pretty well now, so I guess life isn’t too bad for her. Whether she’s afraid of having her past exposed or not, I still understand this principle: don’t do to others what you wouldn’t want done to yourself.”

“Mm.” Jiang Feng agreed.

Ming Yue went on, “Tonight… I’m probably going to be very busy. If you’ve got time, could you help cover for me a little bit?”

“Are we about to make a move?” Jiang Feng didn’t need to spell it out—he already knew the answer.

Ming Yue nodded. “Yes.”

“Which pig are we going to slaughter?”

“Better to go with the easiest one.”

“How big will the commotion be?”

“Outwardly, nothing will seem to have happened at all. But internally, it can be as big as you want—ideally, something earth-shattering, something so severe that there’s no turning back.”

“So even the appetizers are this intense?”

“We’ve spent so long painstakingly planning this—how could it be anything but intense? I’m no living Bodhisattva; I’m a living Yama, the King of Hell. I’ve got to live up to the nickname I gave myself.”

“That makes sense,” Jiang Feng agreed again, then added, “But you’d better be careful yourself. Whenever you need me, I’ll be there to help.”

“No other favors—just cover for me a little bit. Especially…” Ming Yue glanced at the few people singing and dancing in the private room, “Don’t let them know it was my doing.”

“You won’t be able to keep it a secret for long,” Jiang Feng shot a quick look at the people inside. “Besides Yan Yun, none of those folks are pushovers. Sooner or later, they’ll find out about this.”

“I know.”

“Then why…”

“As long as I can keep it hidden, that’s fine. For now, I just don’t want them to know yet.” She wasn’t sure why exactly. Maybe she was afraid they’d spill the beans? Or maybe she simply didn’t want them to witness this sordid scene of hers?

She didn’t know—and she didn’t want to know.

But she was following her heart.

“Alright, whatever you say.” Tonight, the unnamed male operative was unusually easygoing, showing absolutely no resistance and not a trace of jealousy.

Ming Yue found it a bit unusual.

After a while, she finally asked with concern, “What about the injury on your back…”

“It’s nothing serious—I’ve already put some medicine on it.” Jiang Feng answered before she could even finish her question, and for some reason, his heart suddenly felt sweet, as if he’d just eaten candy.

Ming Yue curled her lips and fell silent.

When they returned to the private room, Fu Qiancheng had already been waiting by the door for a long time. He glanced behind her first and saw no one, then grabbed her hand. “Where have you been?”

“The restroom.”

End of Chapter 87: Counterattack 13