There's a saying that goes, if a fellow Daoist dies, a poor Daoist shouldn't either. If I'm going down, I might as well drag a fellow Daoist with me; otherwise, what's the fun in that?
Fu Shihan is in a great mood upon hearing the silence from Lu Ci on the other end of the phone.
With his naturally strong mental fortitude, and having already secured Su Wanxin last night, he now enjoys the status of the claimed prize. So, in a way, he's feeling very stable—stable as an old dog.
"Want to invite me for a drink? Sure," Fu Shihan nods in agreement. "I'll get in touch with you once I'm done with my current tasks."
"You better not." Finally, Lu Ci speaks up. "Let's not play brothers anymore, at least for the time being."
"Heh," Fu Shihan snorts with a laugh. "Who's playing brothers with you? Let me correct that, you're just a scapegoat."
Hearing this, Lu Ci feels utterly hopeless.
