Spring Festival was in February.
After celebrating Spring Festival, we returned to He City on the third day to pay our New Year visits and then went back to Luo City on the fifteenth.
Before I realized it, I, Qin Guanglin, twenty-eight years old and twenty-nine by the traditional count, was on the cusp of middle age.
Not young anymore.
Years of continuous fighting had left me somewhat spent, wishing I could feast daily on leeks, oysters, kidneys, and lamb scorpion.
I used to not be satisfied with fighting twice in three days; now I've cut it down to twice, maybe three times a week.
"I can't resist aging," Qin Guanglin pinched his flesh and sighed, recalling when he once boasted a "stud's waist".
Women are all demons.
The demon lying beside me sighed luxuriously, contemplating, "This is the last time."
"What?" Qin Guanglin stopped short.
Last time? What last time?
