"Xiang Kun needs our help."
For some reason, upon hearing Old Xia's somewhat vague sentence, Yang Zhen'er excitedly sprang to her feet. Images of different battlefields, different enemies and different combat situations flashed through her mind!
All these thoughts merged into a single voice: I knew it!
Of course, she didn't stop to work out exactly what she had predicted. For she knew that the notion of "help" in Old Xia's sentence wasn't along the lines of "Xiang Kun is short of money, let's pitch in some," "Xiang Kun was beaten, let's help him by beating back," or "Xiang Kun is heartbroken, let's cheer him up."
Consider who's in this car. There's Xiao Lingdang, a little friend who's just finished first grade. There's Xiao Pingguo, a blind girl still under eighteen. There's Alice, a half-real, half-illusionary being from another dimension, like a Crispy Pig's Elbow. And lastly, there's her, a pretty, sweet, smart girl who nevertheless can't fight.
