sir he is sweet

Qi Zhao stared blankly at the scattered osmanthus cakes left on his fingertips, and the veins on his forehead twitched.

He is usually not a good-natured person, and being gentle and courteous is just an illusion, so when his favorite sweet-scented osmanthus cake was robbed, he directly wanted to bring that kid back and beat him up.

But after that bad boy took away the food again, he did not forget to lick his fingertips with the tip of his tongue and tease him, and he felt his fingers tremble slightly as if electrified, and he could hardly lift his whole arm.

"you……"

The corners of Qi Zhao's mouth twitched slightly, and he didn't know how to react for a moment.

On the other hand, Murong Sheng laughed loudly, swallowed the piece of sweet-scented osmanthus cake he had snatched, and did not forget to lick off the crumbs from the corner of his mouth, and shook his head at him in a chattering voice.

The man narrowed his eyes, his eyes flashed, and he immediately stuffed the remaining sweet-scented osmanthus cake into his mouth, while chewing, he raised his hand to cover his chest, and bowed slightly.

"Well……"

Sure enough, Murong Sheng was immediately fooled, and rushed forward anxiously, "Sir! What's wrong? My heart hurts again? Oh, I..."

Before he could touch the corner of the man's clothes, his feet slipped, and he was dragged into the alley next to him.

"gentlemen……"

Murong Sheng was still a little dazed as his back hit the rough wall with a "bang", and a magnified handsome face was reflected in front of his eyes.

"First... sir?"

The two of them were really too close, so close that the tip of their noses almost touched, the ambiguous atmosphere suddenly overflowed, Murong Sheng's face turned red with a "whoosh", blinked his eyes stammeringly, and said: "You... ...what do you want to do...why..."

He almost felt that the man would kiss him the next moment.

In a trance, his arms loosened, the sweet-scented osmanthus cakes and crisp candies he bought just now were swept away, and even the warm breath on his cheeks disappeared.

Murong Sheng looked around in a daze, and found that the man only left him a graceful figure from the back.

"Huh? Sir!"

So it was not to kiss him, but to grab pastries!

Thinking of this, Murong Sheng couldn't help feeling depressed again.

"Sir, wait for me! That sweet-scented osmanthus cake is too sweet! You can't eat too much!"

As soon as he was in a daze, Qi Zhao disappeared, so he had no choice but to chase after him.

This man—

Has always been sweet, dislike bitter, chills.

The days in Futu City were actually not as difficult as Murong Sheng imagined.

He has Qinghe's personal letter and personal keepsake, letting everyone know that this prince from the capital has a very close personal relationship with Qinghe.

In other words, he was chosen by Qinghe.

In this way, even if everyone is reluctant in their hearts, they are more or less giving some kindness.

He would go to the barracks every day, stay for two or three hours, practice martial arts with everyone, stand on the tower to see the majestic scenery in the distance, and listen to the stories of the past told by the soldiers.

During lunch, Murong Sheng will definitely run back to the General's Mansion to have dinner with Qi Zhao. That person has a poor appetite recently, especially after eating too much sweet-scented osmanthus cakes and suffering from a serious stomach problem. Appetite looked worse and worse.

In the evening, he would often take Qi Zhao out for a walk, wander around the noisy evening market a few times, squeeze under the temporary stage, and listen to the locals' storytelling.

There are a few storytellers in Futu City, but they don't have the accent here, but they sound a bit like people from the Northland, which makes Murong Sheng couldn't help but laugh.

If it is true that the entertainment activity of storytelling was introduced from the north, it first started in Kyoto. It always makes people feel that the people in Kyoto are the best at playing it.

"I've come to hear this story a lot during this time."

It was cold at night in the south, and every time he came out in the evening, Murong Sheng would wrap Qi Zhao tightly, and even exaggeratedly gave him a cape with a hood, covering most of his face.

In Murong Sheng's words, this is to prevent more people from coveting him.

The ones that save will be buried by those veils that are so fragrant that they make people sneeze.

Qi Zhao pampered him and let him go. When he spoke, he was still coughed slightly by the wind: "Is... cough... the story of the Buddha Lord in Tianzhao City?"

Hearing this, Murong Sheng's eyes lit up, "Yes, yes! How do you know?"

This story has been spread in the southern region, and it is also familiar to Guxiang, Miaojiang and other places. He has heard it here for several days!

"Song Jinyu told me."

Qi Zhao smiled and said nonsense in a serious manner.

Sometimes this kid is smart and smart, but he is also stupid when he says he is stupid. These nonsense are easy to come by, relying on this kid's temperament, he will never explore it himself.

After all-

He was born in the Southwest, grew up in the Southwest, and the story passed down by word of mouth, how could he not have heard of it?

"Sir, tell me, does the legendary Lord Buddha, the magnificent young master Bei Yue, really exist?"

"Tianzhao...does it really exist?"

This question can be said to be asked with a look of embarrassment and melancholy, obviously stuck in the story.

Qi Zhao squinted over without any trace, and the corners of his mouth twitched again and again.

Even if he changed to another place, Murong Sheng's preference for reading scripts still remained the same.

This incident reminded Qi Zhao of the book that fell from the wall.

It's still on me!

The people in the neighborhood market wrote some stories that were too exaggerated in order to attract people's attention. Qi Zhao couldn't help but take a deep breath when he thought of the many things that made people blush and heartbeat depicted in the storybook.

Hmm... a bit dirty eyes.

He was lost in thought when Murong Sheng began to tease him again, "Sir, look... huh? What are you thinking, sir? Why is your face so red? Are you sick?"

"Hmm...cough..."

Qi Zhao turned his head, pulled the brim of his hat in a self-deceiving manner, cleared his throat, "It's nothing, Your Highness, don't worry."

God knows what he was thinking just now that made people blush and heartbeat!

Of course this cannot be said, his old face still wants to meet people.

Fortunately, Murong Sheng didn't doubt that he was there, and still murmured: "It's really touching—it is rumored that the Tianzhao is the predecessor of Futu, but I don't know that year, it was buried by the snowstorm, the Lord Buddha and the son Bei Yue devoted all his energy to rescue the remaining people, and built a new city, and this is how Futu is today."

"Those two immortals in the legend—also joined hands and went to the heaven."

Listening to a storyteller, Murong Sheng was deeply involved in the drama, when Qi Zhao dragged him away, his nose was full of tears and his eyes were swollen like peaches.

Qi Zhao couldn't help laughing.

"Your Highness."

He held Murong Sheng's warm palm, and explained to him very carefully, "What you have heard are all stories and legends, and they are all fake. They have never really existed. Just listen to them. There is no need for such things." Seriously."

"It's all about coaxing children."

With a smile in his mouth, he tapped Murong Sheng's red nose, and said in a soft tone, "Your Highness, don't cry anymore. If you go back to the General's Mansion, you will be laughed at, which will damage your majesty."