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... p>

Well... Indra had hardly spoken.

Enyo was happily carrying on about tales from the olden days hoping it would jog his memory.

He humored her for a while but once she started talking about the fascination he held with her bottom at fourteen years old, he forbade her from saying anything else.

That was about a day ago and since then, he hadn't heard a single peep.

'That's odd, I thought she would've resumed talking by now.' Even if he wouldn't admit it, he had ...

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Wen Le’s grandfather was a revered literary writer who escaped to the mountains for inspiration and has lived there for over 10 years.

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Wen Le smiled: “The stall owner was probably my Dad.”

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