"Junior Brother, Junior Brother."
Xue Jing was practicing swordsmanship when Zhu Shanying's voice came from outside the practice room.
He paused, sheathed the long sword in his hand, placed it on the ground, took down the towel hanging on the wall, and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
The door to the practice room was pushed open, and Zhu Shanying's petite figure darted in.
"Clang, clang, clang! The hero arrives!"
The girl's bright and lively eyes smiled into crescents, and she held a rectangular black cloth strip in her hands.
"Junior Brother, look what I've brought for you."
Xue Jing smiled and greeted her:
"Senior Sister Zhu."
Then he looked at the black rectangular cloth strip in her hand, curious:
"What's this?"
Zhu Shanying grinned and said, "Guess what?"
Xue Jing glanced at the black cloth strip, about to speak when his expression suddenly shifted.
He inexplicably felt a strange sense of familiarity with the black cloth strip, as if it were calling out to him.
