But another, far more cowardly part of her brain immediately argued back:
'Are you insane?! If you go over there now, he might snap your neck! Or worse, he might look at you with those deep, intense, emotionally devastating puppy-dog eyes again, and you'll do something stupid like kiss his forehead! You are a Martial Uncle! You cannot be caught simping for the villain!'
"I'll let him cool off a few more days," Ji'an muttered aloud, aggressively dusting the counter with flour. "Yes. Give it till the weekend. Let the ice thaw."
Zhiwei tilted his head, completely confused. "Let the ice thaw? But Brother Lin, winter is coming. The ice is only going to get thicker."
Ji'an groaned, resting her flour-covered forehead against the wooden table. "Zhiwei, please. Don't use metaphors. My life is already a poorly written melodrama."
.
.
.
Miles away, on the freezing, desolate training grounds of the Eternal Cloud Peak, Xie Wangchen swung his sword.
CRACK!
