Xie Luohe sighed. "You shouldn't have gone in."
Zheng Xiu asked, puzzled, "You mean... the Path?"
"What else could I mean?"
"Haha, it's fine. I went in a long time ago."
Unconcerned, Zheng Xiu waved the Iron Pen again, and the Blood Umbrella dissipated into the wind and snow.
Xie Luohe had wanted to tell him it was a dream, that it wasn't real.
But the words died on her lips. She knew she couldn't persuade this man with just a few words, so she could only shake her head and turn toward the cabin.
At the door, Xie Luohe suddenly remembered something. "What's the name of that pen of yours?" she asked.
Zheng Xiu scratched his head. "I haven't gotten around to it..."
"Luohe."
Zheng Xiu froze.
"We'll call it 'Luohe'."
Zheng Xiu was exasperated. "But it's mine!"
"My people forged it for you," Xie Luohe said, perfectly justified.
Zheng Xiu was speechless.
'Just like a domineering CEO, isn't she.'
He knew he was in the wrong, so he had no choice but to back down.
