Yi Dao had to admit, he'd spent his whole life hunting hawks, but never thought he'd get pecked in the eye by …
Yi Dao had to admit, he'd spent his whole life hunting hawks, but never thought he'd get pecked in the eye by a sparrow. Maybe it was because they'd worked so well together in that wine cellar that he'd mistakenly started to trust the little brat. Until that sly kid tricked him again, leaving him in a sorry state, only to be rescued by Han Xiangxun herself. Yi Dao wanted to let out a long sigh—Forget it. No point holding a grudge against a snot-nosed brat.
He hadn't forgotten his true purpose, hadn't forgotten the promise he came for—a promise worth more than gold. But the Jianghu had grown desolate, old friends scattered to the wind. When he delivered the news to Han Xiangxun and saw that fleeting emptiness in her eyes, Yi Dao felt uneasy. He was never good at handling such moments, and never wanted to see the faces of those left behind. There was something in her eyes, in her expression, that made his heart go numb. Jianghu, damn this wretched jianghu!
"I've always wanted to see what the Jianghu outside is like," the kid said. Yi Dao almost laughed. You? Want to go into the Jianghu? Please. With that sharp tongue of yours, who knows how many people you'd offend just by talking? People out there aren't as easygoing as me; push them too far and they won't let you off so easily... But then, he thought, the kid was very much like himself.
Heaven's Pier was a good place, but it was too small, too fragile to withstand a fledgling's first attempt to soar like a roc. You can't keep it in; even if the wings are still soft, that young bird will stumble and try to fly, again and again, out of the nest—even if outside is a bottomless abyss, and falling means being smashed to pieces.
Forget it, Yi Dao thought. "Come on, I'll take you to Kaifeng!" As long as Yi Dao was around, he'd never let that kid fall and shatter to pieces.