My Wife Is The Leader Of A Demonic Cult

80  Chapter 80 The Beautiful Woman Plays Pitch-Pot under the Night Sky

"Husband, what are you sighing about?"

Zhao Qingmei, having finished tidying up, walked over to An Jing with a face full of curiosity.

Wearing a scattered-flower misty green pleated skirt, with her cherry lips naturally red without any embellishment, and alluringly delicate, two strands of hair beside her cheeks fluttered with the breeze, adding an enticing charm.

"Nothing, I was just thinking the weather is really nice." An Jing looked up at the dimming sky.

"It's nearly dark now; don't lie to me."

Zhao Qingmei placed her palm on An Jing's arm, staring at him with unwavering eyes, and said, "Tell me, are you hiding something from me? I always feel like you're keeping me in the dark."

Feeling the warm body temperature and the faint scent that wafted into his nose, An Jing couldn't help his mind wandering, and he chuckled, "My lady, everything I've said is true."

"Is that so?" Zhao Qingmei cast a doubtful glance at An Jing.

"How could I possibly hide anything from you?"

An Jing said solemnly, "You know my length, and I know your depth; we are the closest of people,"

"Impudent! Mind your behavior! This is a main street; aren't you afraid of others overhearing?"

Zhao Qingmei's heart suddenly fluttered like a startled deer, a flush of red spreading to her neck, and she couldn't help but lower her voice, "Let's go eat, we are going to the night market later, and it wouldn't be good to be late."

"Then I'll go close up shop now," An Jing said, putting away the broom upon hearing this.

"No need; Third Master isn't going either. Let him stay and watch the house, he can also dispense medicines."

"He isn't going?"

"Yes, he wants to stay home and read," Zhao Qingmei replied.

Upon hearing this, An Jing's heart stirred; that old guy is truly keeping an eye on me.

........

Yu State City, the night market to the south of the city.

The place was bright with lights, intoxicating with the spring breeze, where thousands of lights reflected the blue clouds by the bridge, ships clustered closely together, loaded with exquisite silk goods. Inside and outside the tall buildings, heavily made-up women could be seen everywhere, and pleasure-seekers kept arriving in an unending stream.

The crowds were dense, and the noise of voices was bustling - a scene of prosperity and excitement.

"It's really crowded."

Tan Yun glanced around and couldn't help clicking her tongue.

An Jing cast a glance at the high-rise buildings in the distance, saying, "Of course, it's crowded. This is the liveliest place in Yu State City at night..."

"With some luck, we might even see Han Wenxin."

He clearly remembered that at the beginning of this summer, Han Wenxin used to come to this night market every evening on time.

Then punch in, and start his shift.

Zhao Qingmei chuckled beside him, "We haven't seen Han Wenxin for several days now, don't know what's up. After the last time he brought two boxes of Ruyi Cakes, he has never come again."

An Jing's heart also found it strange. Before, Han Wenxin would come to drink with him every now and then, but during this period indeed, he had not been seen.

"Han Wenxin, that guy? He wouldn't even want to be a dog for a few days."

Tan Yun muttered, then seemed to see something, "Miss, young master, over there they're pitching pots."

Not far away there was a stall with several coarse cloth cushions placed in front, and behind them three porcelain pots were lined up at increasing distances from near to far.

At that moment, a crowd had gathered around the pot-pitching stall, watching a young woman in the center pitch pots.

Seeing the face of the woman who was pitching pots, An Jing instantly understood why she had attracted so many onlookers.

The woman had skin as white as snow, a slightly upturned delicate nose, and red lips against white teeth. She was quite beautiful but gave off an air of pride and coldness.

The woman, kneeling on the cushion, held feathered arrows in her hand, continuously throwing them towards the pots.

"Ah, what a pity."

"Just missed it by a little."

......

The crowd around watched intently; they had never watched someone playing pitch-pot as seriously as they did today, even feeling sorry for the player.

Dozens of feathered arrows, without a single exception, all misfired, and the stall owner was beaming with joy early on but still kept consoling.

"Miss, there's a knack to pitch-pot, you might succeed if you try a few more times."

The woman seemed not to hear the stall owner or the pitying comments around her, just focusing on the target in front of her and continuously shooting, and when she ran out of arrows, she reached into her purse and decisively bought ten more.

"This woman is an expert," An Jing thought to himself as he watched her shoot.

From the moment the woman started to play pitch-pot, the agility with which her wrist moved could not be achieved so naturally by someone who was not a martial arts expert.

However, why did such an expert miss every single shot?

"Miss Dai, I play pitch-pot quite often; maybe I could teach you."

Just then, a familiar voice sounded.

There stood Han Wenxin, with a naive smile, rubbing his hands on his chest.

"That really is Han Wenxin, the lad," Tan Yun said with surprise.

Witnessing this scene, An Jing felt a sense of déjà vu and couldn't help but startle. How had Han Wenxin become more and more like Zhou Dynasty? Or could it be that everyone in this world is.....

"Husband, do you think she's prettier, or am I?" Zhao Qingmei said with a sweet smile and a gentle voice.

"Of course, it's my wife who is prettier," An Jing quickly responded with a chill in his heart.

"Then why are you so engrossed?" Zhao Qingmei continued with her smile.

An Jing laughed awkwardly, "No, I was looking at Brother Han..." n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

Tan Yun looked at An Jing strangely, "What's there to look at about Han Wenxin?"

An Jing smiled meaningfully, "No, I'm waiting for Brother Han's performance."

Zhao Qingmei and Tan Yun were both somewhat puzzled, not understanding the meaning behind An Jing's words.

At the stall, Han Wenxin patted his chest and declared, "Not to brag, but when it comes to pitch-pot in Yu State City, I might rank second, but no one dares to claim the first."

An Jing became instantly interested upon hearing this; he felt he understood Han Wenxin well.

"No need, thank you," the woman spoke her first sentence, somewhat coldly.

After speaking, she shot her last feathered arrow, and sure enough, she missed again.

"How about that, pitch-pot is quite interesting, isn't it?"

Just then, a sharp voice came from afar, sounding as if hair was stuck in the throat, which was extremely uncomfortable to hear.

Looking toward the source of the voice, there was a man in black clothes with a conical hat.

The man's features and age were unclear, but the sleeves of his robe were wide, and upon closer inspection, no hands were sticking out; obviously, they were disabled. A glazed jade pendant hung around his waist, such attire was common among the martial world's Jianghu inhabitants.

When Tan Yun saw that man, his eyes narrowed, and he transmitted a message telepathically, "Sect Hierarch, this man might be Tian Cansou of the Five Poison Sect, born with disabled hands but famous in Jianghu for his Wu Hook Crescent Leg Technique. According to our Human Sect's intelligence, he indeed came to Jiangnan Dao."

"If I'm not wrong about the woman beside him, she should be Dai Ling, the daughter of Dai Danshu. I didn't expect to encounter them here."