Mo Cheng's shaking voice, resembling that of a nervous youth, was in complete contrast to his social status and physical appearance. The handsome succeeding disciple of the Sword Bearer's division, owning a harem of concubines in his estate, born and raised in the lap of luxury, was awkwardly scratching the back of his neck while staring at her affectionately. At that moment, he looked so much like a love-struck puppy, a very silly, love-struck puppy.
As Li Meirong looked at him, she noticed that he seemed to have been seriously training for the approaching tournament. Half of his hair was tied into a high bun, while the rest of the strands trailed down a set of broad shoulders. The muscles of his glistening chest could be glimpsed from the crevice of a loosely tied robe, his narrow hips flanked by a sword on each side. His body was developed under a daily exercise regimen, growing leaner and taller still.
