Ning Xia tugged at the corner of her mouth, but five days had also passed, and there was no need to keep whetting the appetite, so she readily agreed, "Sure."
"See you tomorrow," the man's voice didn't hide his pleasure, "Good night, have sweet dreams."
After hanging up the phone, Ning Xia lay back, opened her eyes, and looked at the ceiling painted in the style of a medieval oil painting depicting heaven and angels.
For her, deliberately approaching someone, especially knowing that this man had a bit of interest in her, did bring a sense of guilt.
But all things have their causes and effects.
If Big Trouble had defeated Bo Siyan in a fair and square manner, she would have nothing to say, but he had resorted to vile methods first, destroying one's will and body; she could not forgive that.
To Bo Siyan, or perhaps to people like Big Trouble, such devastation was more lethal than taking his life directly.
No hero wants to cling to life in such a wretched state.
