Li Qiao did not move an inch, her eyelashes drooping down as she eased her breath, relaxing her grip on the gun.
"The recoil of the Desert Eagle is too strong; you could try the Colt."
The man's low voice was like the sound of a cello, deep and seductively husky.
The images in Li Qiao's mind receded like the tide, deliberately suppressed, and she soon returned to her usual self.
For more than an hour, Li Qiao practiced shooting, with Shang Yu accompanying her by her side.
Shooting with a real gun was addictive.
It was not until she had fired fifty bullets that Li Qiao stopped, her palms numb and her arms sore, yet feeling absolutely exhilarated.
...
The sky was nearing dusk, aglow with the brilliance of a sunset.
Li Qiao and Shang Yu sat in the outdoor resting area. She rubbed her arm, pulling a wry smile, "Master Yan, today is my last day of internship. Is this my farewell reward?"
She loved guns, and he must have known that by now.
