Huang Rong from The Return of the Condor Heroes: Brother Jing, let's get a divorce.

Yang Guo led Lu Wushuang out of the Xiangyang Marshal's Mansion.

The streets were bustling with people, and the cries of vendors filled the air.

Xiangyang City was strategically located, and although war raged outside, the city remained bustling with activity.

Stalls selling steamed buns, candied hawthorns, cosmetics, and other cosmetics lined up one after another, offering a dazzling array of goods.

Lu Wushuang followed Yang Guo, her eyes curiously looking around.

She had followed Li Mochou on her wanderings for so many years, and she couldn't even get a decent meal, let alone stroll through such a bustling market.

Later, he went up Zhongnan Mountain and stayed in Chongyang Palace every day. Looking around, all he saw were old Taoist priests with ox-nose noses wearing Taoist robes.

Everything felt new and exciting when I first came out today.

An old man selling noodles was kneading a red-faced Guan Gong figurine. As his fingers flew across the paper, her steps unconsciously slowed by half a beat.

She remembered seeing other girls running by with dough figurines on the roadside, but all she could think about was where to steal food for that night.

Those days lasted so long that she thought she would never be interested in these little gadgets again.

Yang Guo walked ahead and noticed that she had slowed down, so he turned around and glanced back at her.

Today, the girl was wearing a plain-colored, narrow-sleeved long dress, and her hair was only tied up with a wooden hairpin. She didn't even have any earrings.

The most valuable thing he owned was probably the willow-leaf dagger at his waist.

As the dignified leader of the Quanzhen Sect, dressing like this would be a disgrace to Yang Guo.

"What are you looking at?" Yang Guo asked.

Lu Wushuang quickly looked away and lowered her head: "I wasn't looking at anything."

"What aren't you looking at? Your eyes are practically popping out of the candied hawthorn stall."

Yang Guo walked up to a stall, took out two copper coins and threw them to the vendor, then bought two strings of candied hawthorns and handed one to her.

Lu Wushuang took it and took a bite.

The sourness of the hawthorn and the sweetness of the sugar coating mix together, instantly making the back of the tongue feel both astringent and sweet.

When was the last time she ate something sweet?

Can not remember.

I think I was seven or eight years old when I stole a piece of brown sugar from someone's stove. I ran to the riverbank and licked it for a long time, not wanting to finish it in one bite.

She looked up at Yang Guo and whispered, "Thank you, husband."

"What's the use of just thanking him?" Yang Guo mumbled, biting into a candied hawthorn.

"You are now the personal envoy of the leader of the Quanzhen Sect. If you walk down the street dressed like this, people will think that the Quanzhen Sect is about to starve."

Lu Wushuang looked at her clothes, somewhat puzzled: "My clothes are fine, they're not torn or patched."

She genuinely felt that way.

When I was homeless, the clothes I wore were taken from piles of dead bodies; it was good enough if they could even cover my body.

When they arrived at Zhongnan Mountain, Yang Guo gave her two sets of clean Taoist robes, which she already felt was incredibly luxurious.

So, by her standards, it's already "pretty good" since it's neither broken nor patched.

"As long as it's not torn, it's fine?" Yang Guo pointed to a spacious silk shop in front of them. "Come on, let's go in and get you some new clothes."

He took two steps, but then suddenly stopped.

Yang Guo's gaze swept across the street without making a sound, and his right hand unconsciously rubbed his wrist.

He is now at the early stage of the Innate Realm. Once he releases his Qi, he can instantly recall how many people within a radius of thirty feet are carrying weapons and how many have mastered martial arts skills.

No exception.

But Xiangyang City is not Zhongnan Mountain after all; it is a melting pot of all sorts of people.

Although a list of Mongolian spies has been handed over, who knows if there are still any who have slipped through the net?

Yang Guo was ranked seventh on the Mongolians' kill list, so he had to be extra careful along the way.

Only after confirming that no one was watching him did Yang Guo continue walking forward.

Lu Wushuang noticed his brief pause, and her hand unconsciously went to the hilt of the knife at her waist, but she didn't ask anything.

She knew she shouldn't speak at a time like this.

The signboard of the silk shop reads "Jinxiu Pavilion" in bold, elegant characters.

The interior was spacious, with colorful fabrics displayed on the counters on both sides, and several waiters were busy greeting customers.

Yang Guo led Lu Wushuang across the threshold.

A plump proprietress immediately came forward, her shrewd eyes sweeping over the two of them before her face instantly plastered with the smile typical of a businesswoman.

Having worked in this industry for decades, she has the best eye for people.

Although the young master in front of me was wearing an ordinary blue cloth robe, his composure was something that ordinary people could not possess.

The young woman accompanying him, though dressed simply, possessed a figure and appearance that were of the highest caliber.

"Young master, what kind of material would you like to see?"

Yang Guo walked to the counter and tapped the table lightly with his knuckles.

"Bring out all the best fabrics and the latest styles in your store, and let my wife pick out a few outfits."

When Lu Wushuang heard the word "wife," her face flushed red instantly, and she quickly tugged at his sleeve.

"My lord, just buy two ordinary clothes, they don't need to be the best."

She wasn't just being polite; she genuinely felt she wasn't good enough for those glamorous materials.

The young lady from Lu Family Village—that was a story from over a decade ago.

From the age of five, she was an orphan, a cripple, and a homeless girl struggling to make a living at the bottom of society.

The brocade and silk were too far removed from her, so far that she felt that if she reached out to touch them, the calluses on her hands would snag and ruin the beautiful fabric.

Yang Guo grabbed her hand and squeezed it in her soft palm.

"Listen to me."

The three words, spoken softly, carried an undeniable authority.

Lu Wushuang opened her mouth, but ultimately swallowed the rest of her words.

She had spent several months in the Quanzhen Sect and had long since figured out Yang Guo's temperament.

Once he's made up his mind to do something, nothing can change it.

Moreover, when he squeezed her palm, most of the "unworthy" thoughts in her mind inexplicably dissipated.

He said to listen to me, and she listened.

She'll probably never be able to change this habit in her lifetime.

When the proprietress heard that it was a big deal, she was overjoyed and quickly told her assistant to go to the back to get the materials.

Before long, the counter was piled high with all kinds of silks and brocades, a dazzling array.

"Young master, look, this is Suzhou brocade, just transported from Jiangnan. This watery red color perfectly complements your skin tone. And this moon-white soft gauze is light and cool, perfect for summer dresses."

Yang Guo reached out and touched the light red Suzhou brocade. The quality was indeed excellent, a world apart from the coarse cloth worn by the Taoists on Zhongnan Mountain.

He turned to Lu Wushuang and said, "This color is nice. Make a long dress with a fitted waist and a high slit at the bottom."

Lu Wushuang was startled and waved her hands repeatedly, "No, no! How can it be split open? That...that would mean everyone could see it!"

"Open it up a little above the knee, and wear another pair of pants underneath, what's there to be afraid of?" Yang Guo lowered his voice, his lips close to her ear, his breath warm.

"I went to great lengths to heal your leg; it's so straight and white now, it's such a waste not to show it off."

Lu Wushuang's neck instantly turned bright red, and she didn't dare to look at the proprietress's mischievous eyes.

She remembered her leg.

She broke her bone when she was five years old and it didn't heal properly, which left her limping for more than ten years.

It was Yang Guo who used his pure innate energy to clear her meridians little by little, and with the help of the Yi Jin Duan Gu Manual, it took several months to completely heal her leg.

During that time, his hands would press back and forth on her leg bones every day.

Sometimes the pain made her bite her lip so hard, and sometimes the numbness made her feel weak all over.

But the hardest part wasn't the pain, but the way her heart would race uncontrollably when his hand rested on her delicate calves.

For a girl who had been called "cripple" since childhood, this was the first time someone had touched her leg not to kick her.

What she owed him was far more than just a leg.

"Young master has excellent taste! Water red is the perfect color for a fitted waist dress! Young lady, you have a great figure, you're sure to look beautiful in it!" The proprietress stepped forward with a tape measure, "I'll take your measurements right now."

"I don't need you to measure me." Yang Guo reached out and blocked Lu Wushuang's way.

"I know her size."

The proprietress paused, frozen in place with the tape measure in her hand.

This sentence contained a lot of information. She had worked in the silk industry for decades and had seen all kinds of situations, but at this moment she couldn't suppress the smile on her lips.

Yang Guo turned around.

Lu Wushuang subconsciously took half a step back, but her lower back pressed against the cold edge of the counter, leaving her with nowhere to retreat.

She knew what he was going to do, but her legs felt like they were made of lead and wouldn't obey her commands; she couldn't run away.

Yang Guo's hands rested firmly on her waist.

Lu Wushuang's waist muscles tensed instantly.

She could feel the warmth of his palms through the thin fabric; his hands were very steady, possessing the sense of control that only someone who had practiced martial arts for many years could have.

It was just the right weight, perfectly fitting around her slimmest point.

She knew those hands all too well.

These are the hands that healed her legs, and these are the hands that held her waist.

It's just as stable, just as... impossible to break free from.

"Waist circumference is two feet one inch," Yang Guo reported.

Lu Wushuang's breathing suddenly became rapid.

There were other customers in the store picking out fabrics. Although they were far away, being watched by outsiders made her want to dig a hole and bury herself.

But another voice in her heart said, he remembers, he actually remembers how thin her waist was.

This realization filled her with both panic and joy; the two extreme emotions were twisted together, stuck in her chest, unable to rise or fall.

Yang Guo slowly moved his hand up a few inches, stopping at her chest, but did not touch it. He merely gestured in the air, his gaze then falling there.

"Bra size..." he deliberately dragged out the sound.

Lu Wushuang closed her eyes in embarrassment, her long eyelashes trembling, her voice barely audible: "Husband, please stop..."

She cursed herself eight hundred times in her heart.

You, Lu Wushuang, are a ruthless character who has killed people, shed blood, and dug graves in mass graves. How come you were so easily provoked by his words that you became weak all over?

Despite the scolding, her face was still burning hot enough to fry an egg.

"Three feet two inches." Yang Guo then withdrew his hand and turned to the proprietress, saying, "Did you write it down?"

The proprietress nodded quickly, "I've got it, I've got it! The young master is so considerate to his wife."

Yang Guo then casually picked out a few more bolts of fabric.

The two outfits are everyday ruqun (a type of traditional Chinese dress), paired with narrow sleeves, a style popular in the Jiangnan region.

The two sets of martial arts training outfits were made of a cotton-linen blend that didn't restrict movement.

He even explained the stitching details clearly: the collar shouldn't be too high, the cuffs should be tight, and the belt should have a hidden buckle.

Lu Wushuang stood to the side listening, unable to get a word in edgewise.

She discovered that Yang Guo knew more about women's clothing than she did, and she wondered where he had learned all this knowledge.

She stole a glance at him, and a thought suddenly flashed through her mind: he had made that shocking black silk bodycon dress for Huang Rong.

When he picks out clothes for her, is he this attentive and considerate?

The thought had barely crossed her mind when she quickly nipped it in the bud.

Why think about those irrelevant things?

He's buying it for her today, and that's enough.

In fact, Yang Guo had filmed three period dramas in his previous life, and had dealt with stylists a lot, so he naturally knew exactly what kind of fabric to match what kind of cut.

After deciding on four outfits and paying the deposit, the proprietress said to come back in three days to pick them up.

"We've finished choosing what's outside." Yang Guo pulled Lu Wushuang and walked straight into the back of the shop. "Now, let's choose what's inside."

The inner room was a place specifically for selling women's intimate apparel.

On a row of wooden racks hung various kinds of bibs and underpants, some plain, some embroidered, some silk, some gauze, with bold styles that sparked the imagination.

Lu Wushuang's legs seemed to be rooted to the ground, and she remained rooted to the spot.

"My lord, I can make the clothes inside myself; there's no need to buy them."

She really didn't want to go in.

It's embarrassing enough to take measurements outside; if he were to enter this room, who knows what kind of trouble this bastard would cause.

"You made it yourself, how can it look as good as the ones you buy?" Yang Guo pulled her over without giving her a chance to explain.

He stood in front of the shelf, carefully selecting items, his expression as focused as if he were choosing rare elixirs for practicing martial arts.

Lu Wushuang could only stand behind him, her head bowed as low as it could go.

She stared intently at the tips of her shoes, feeling that her old cloth shoes, which she had worn for so long, had never looked so beautiful, and were worth looking at forever.

"This one is nice." Yang Guo took off a bright red silk bodice.

Embroidered with two mandarin ducks with their necks intertwined in gold thread, the fabric is as thin as a cicada's wing, so light that it feels almost translucent through the fingers when held up to the light.

He turned around and held the undergarment against Lu Wushuang's chest to show her.

"Bright red, festive." Yang Guo nodded in satisfaction.

Lu Wushuang stared at the almost invisible fabric, stamping her feet in frustration: "This...this material is way too sheer! It's practically the same as not wearing anything at all!"

"Wear it inside, and no one will be able to see it." Yang Guo leaned closer and whispered in her ear.

"When you go back to your room tonight, wear this, and only let me see it."

Lu Wushuang felt her knees buckle and her body sway uncontrollably.

Memories of that night on the back of Zhongnan Mountain surged back like a tidal wave.

Yang Guo, who had gone mad with qi, was burning hot all over. She knelt beside him, calling his name again and again in despair.

Finally, it was she herself who, with trembling hands, untied her sash and, using her virgin yin body in conjunction with the Kanli Technique, managed to pull him back from the brink of death.

After that night, she could no longer call him "master".

She called him "husband".