Sunlight spilled over the flying eaves of Wanhua Tower, weaving a patch of warm gold on Ye Fan's shoulders. He gazed down at the overturned vegetable stall of Fatty Sun in the street below, listening to the cheers of the small vendors echoing across the blue stone slab road. His fingers subconsciously rubbed against the window frame—the sword that his most trusted junior brother had driven into his back in his past life appeared in his mind now, clearer even than the daylight outside.
"Young Master?" Su Qingxue's voice drifted closer, wrapped in the fragrance of plum blossoms. The soft, gentle clink of a celadon teacup set upon the sandalwood table startled him out of his reverie.
"Fatty Sun is nothing more than a dog raised by Young Master Zhao." Ye Fan lowered his gaze to the plum petals floating and sinking in his cup, his fingertips pressing a faint indentation into the rim. "When it bites someone hard enough to hurt, you kick it out, but the leash is still held tight in the master's hand." As he lifted his eyes, dark currents churned in the depths of his pupils. "If we want to cut out Fatty Sun by the roots, we must first pull the tendons from the monster behind him."
Chapter 39