When beginners practice archery, if they leave their arms exposed, the inner side of the wrist is easily struck by the bowstring, leaving bruises.
Shen Wei already had bruises on her elbow.
Looking at her left index finger, the skin was broken, and the stark red against her fair fingers was rather alarming.
Shen Wei seemed oblivious: "Wearing an armguard ruins the feel, so I took it off. Archery is quite fun—watching the sharp arrowhead pierce the target brings me great joy."
Li Yuanjing's eyes darkened.
A pang of regret suddenly rose in his heart. He shouldn't have impulsively taught Shen Wei archery.
Archery was a man's pursuit. How could a delicate woman like Shen Wei endure such hardship?
"Don't practice anymore," Li Yuanjing said, examining the bruises on her arm, his heart aching.
Shen Wei smiled sweetly, her eyes curving like crescents: "Your Majesty, I'm not afraid of hardship. If I can become a master archer, I can protect you if you're ever in danger—"
