After the death of the host: the tyrant cried red eyes

Xiao Yi narrowed his eyes slightly and said in a cold tone: "Try to move again and see if I can let you keep this pair of claws."

The little tiger cub immediately restrained itself, with its limbs hanging limply, as if it were a rag doll with its soul taken away, and was unusually docile.

Xiao Yi pulled it closer, looked directly into its confused and frightened eyes, and said in a cold and deep tone: "You are an abandoned being now, do you understand?"

The tiger cub's whiskers trembled slightly. Xiao Yi loosened his hand, and as soon as it touched the ground, it quickly rushed to the door, probed the crack in the door with its claws, and slipped out through the gap.

"Heartless little fellow!"

Xiao Yi ordered: "Go and inform the Fu family and tell them that Fu Yun is in Biancheng."

An Feng took the order and answered concisely and forcefully: "Yes."

At this moment, Eunuch Wei walked in from outside, holding a letter in his hand: "Your Majesty, this is an urgent letter that General Wuyi just sent."

Xiao Yi opened the envelope and quickly scanned its contents, frowning slightly: "Gu Wenyan? Who is this person?"

This name seems familiar.

An Feng immediately responded: "He once helped Miss Shen copy Buddhist scriptures."

Xiao Yi's memory was awakened, and he put down the letter: "Since Zhang Yishan recommended him, let Gu Wenyan be responsible for investigating the Haizhou taxation case."

Haizhou is on the sea and pirates are rampant. Local officials colluded with pirates in private and often used the excuse of resisting pirates to evade taxes.

Xiao Yi had long intended to eliminate these hidden dangers, and at the same time he could take this opportunity to test Gu Wenyan's abilities.

As night fell, Shen Bingning woke up from her sleep, and the maid came into the room and lit the candles.

"Miss, would you like me to make you a pot of tea?"

Shen Bingning sat up and responded softly: "Well, okay."

Through the window lattice, the lights in the front yard are bright, the voices are bustling, and the sounds of stringed instruments are faintly floating in.

As she was no longer sleepy and knew she would have a hard time sleeping tonight, Shen Bingning asked the maid to bring her paper, ink, brush and inkstone.

After sipping a cup of fragrant tea and eating some exquisite pastries, Shen Bingning began to paint with her brush, weaving together stories.

She has watched countless fantasy dramas, so creating a mythological story is no problem for her.

It was as if Shen Bingning was inspired by God. When she finished a wonderful plot and put down her pen, she found that her fingers were a little stiff.

The last time I wrote so freely and heartily was when I was copying Buddhist scriptures.

She flexed her wrist, poured another cup of tea, held the teacup in her hand, and slowly walked out of the room and into the moonlit courtyard.

The light from the front yard faintly spread to the backyard, adding a bit of brightness to the night.

The maid was still waiting outside the door. When she saw Shen Bingning, she hurried forward and asked, "Miss, what do you want?"

She just wanted to relax by herself, without anyone to accompany her. Shen Bingning waved her hand gently: "You can go back and rest first. You don't have to wait here."

The maid's feet seemed to be tied to the ground by invisible chains. Her eyes wandered between Shen Bingning and the closed door. Her inner struggle was as intense as the night.

In this mansion, Master Fu's words are the law, and any behavior that neglects his distinguished guests may result in severe punishment, or even flogging or expulsion.

Feeling the warm understanding in Shen Bingning's eyes, she finally felt relieved. She bowed lightly and disappeared briskly at the end of the long corridor.

Leaning on the mottled pillars, Shen Bingning's gaze traveled through thousands of years of time and space, conversing with the distant and bright stars.

In this era of increasing modernization, such a pure and peaceful night view has gradually become a luxury for urbanites.

I could faintly hear the hustle and bustle of the front yard, mixed with the laughter of the guests, which formed a sharp contrast with the quiet backyard.

She shook her head, a wry smile appeared on the corner of her mouth, but a light bulb went off in her mind. The seed of a story was sprouting, urging her to return to the room full of manuscripts and pens and ink, and continue to explore and cultivate in the ocean of words.

As I turned to leave, a faint and trembling sob broke the tranquility of the night, as if something was quietly telling me its grievances in this quiet courtyard.

"Who's there?"

She asked in a low voice, with a barely perceptible concern in her voice.

The woman hiding in the dark seemed to have known that there was not only one person in the courtyard. When she found out that it was Shen Bingning, a hint of surprise flashed in her eyes, but was soon drowned by tears.

She wiped the corners of her eyes with the back of her hand, stood up with difficulty, and was about to say something when she was interrupted by a burst of hurried footsteps.

A smiling, plump man, the prison bully O, hurried forward, smiling and explaining, "I'm really sorry to disturb your rest, young lady. This is a girl from my building. She may have come here to relax because of some harsh words from the guests."

As soon as he finished speaking, the prison bully eagerly pulled the woman back. The woman opened her mouth, as if she wanted to say something, but in the end she could not resist the prison bully's warning look. She could only give Shen Bingning a complicated look, then lowered her head and followed him away.

This sudden encounter did not stir much waves in Shen Bingning's heart. She shook her head gently, turned and walked into the house, and devoted herself to weaving the story again.

The next day, at dawn, Shen Bingning presented the newly completed chapter of the story to Fu Yun.

After reading it carefully, Fu Yun showed sincere admiration on his face, and his voice was full of praise: "Miss Shen, your writing is like a spring breeze and rain, which makes people intoxicated and unable to extricate themselves. It is really wonderful and indescribable!"

In response to Fu Yun's praise, Shen Bingning simply smiled faintly, with a confident light in her eyes: "This is just the beginning of the story, and more exciting chapters are waiting for you all later."

Upon hearing this, Fu Yun became more curious about what would happen next. He took out twenty taels of silver from his sleeve and gently placed it on Shen Bingning's desk, with such caution as if he was offering a rare treasure.

"This is all the silver I have. Although it is not enough at the moment, I will make up for it as soon as possible. Although the story is not finished, I believe that Miss Shen's talent will surely make readers linger."

For Shen Bingning, who came from a poor family, these twenty taels of silver were a huge sum of money, enough to solve her living worries for several months.

However, she hesitated and declined the offer.

"Master Fu's kindness has allowed me to create with peace of mind. Consider these silver coins as my token of appreciation and advance payment of rent. When the new chapter comes out, I will ask Master Fu to give me the reward as agreed."

"Miss Shen is too modest. Although we have only known each other for a short time, we already regard each other as close friends. It is only natural for us to help each other."

Fu Yun's tone was firm and he seemed unwilling to accept rejection.

Shen Bingning knew Fu Yun's sincerity and finally accepted his kindness: "I feel uneasy that you treat me so well after just one day. I hope you won't refuse it again."