Chu Dazhuang chuckled wickedly, and beside him, Ma Xiaoqin also chimed in to back him up.
"Exactly, serving my big brother Dazhuang is truly a bargain for you, you little saucy thing."
That night, the entire village was silent, everyone had drifted into dreamland.
But in contrast, the sounds in the dilapidated temple behind the village were incredibly loud.
The voices of Ma Xiaoqin and Zhang Shuhui rose like waves, one cresting over the other, the merging currents like a stirring symphony. Anyone passing by would surely be deeply shaken and captivated by the sound.
It was just that this night belonged to the three of them.
The night passed slowly, so much so that Zhang Shuhui was begging for mercy by dawn, the waves churning like the great tides of the Qiantang River, as if they were forcefully rushing past.
The sky began to brighten slightly.
And the sounds finally began to subside.
