"The young nun at the tender age of sixteen, in the prime of her youth, had her hair shaved off by her master. Every day, she burns incense and changes water in the Buddha hall, yet watches as disciples play near the mountain gate. She sneaks a glance at us, and we sneak a glance at her. Between her and us, between us and her, feelings of longing ebb and flow. My foe!"
The dance steps began gracefully.
Chen Yi cast a glance and twisted his wrist; the chopsticks suddenly flew like a flash!
The flying chopsticks, like an arrow, pierced through the sharp and chilling wind. Dong Gong Ruoshu's eyes widened slightly, trying to intercept it, but his hand caught only air. In an instant, the chopsticks were about to puncture Tao'er's throat, yet at the last moment, they veered upward, embedding themselves within her thick, jet-black hair.
