Raising a delicate hand to his crimson lips, Bai Qingyue quietly laughed at this juncture. "This sort of friendship, I am afraid I cannot afford it."
Mo Jing remained silent, his face falling as his heart sank. Understanding dawned, but it was not a kind discovery. Guilt gnawed at him, for he knew Shu Qianqian had tried to kill Li Meirong purely out of jealousy.
In addition, his brother seemed insistent on finding a way to maintain an intimate relationship with both ladies. Marrying several women was not uncommon, not even among cultivators, but it was impossible to marry women who were vying to kill each other.
No matter how good their intentions, Li Meirong no longer appeared interested in keeping contact with them. Mo Jing could not blame her. His older brother, however, was being strangely persistent about keeping hold of Li Meirong's affections.
