The instinct accumulated over five thousand years and the control of the self cannot be compared in a fight. Mister Liu says.
********************************************************************************
Liu Zhenhan suddenly felt something amiss.
Exactly what was amiss, he himself could not put his finger on.
Ning Yu, the mermaid, and he, the three of them maintained an awkward silence amongst each other, as if there were some unspoken boundaries that no one wanted to breach.
Liu Zhenhan laid his wolf skin blanket over the sleeping Helen.
His motions as he covered the little fox were extraordinarily gentle, his muscle lines incredibly firm.
There was a bronze mirror in the cabin, square with a pattern carved at each corner, archaic in style.
Liu Zhenhan leaned in to take a look at himself, two gaping holes staring back at him in the mirror, a tuft of hair like a burning henhouse.
"Would you help me fix my hair?" Liu Zhenhan asked Ning Yu.
