On A Funeral

Feng Xuan twirled the blade in her hand. "Hello, husband."

He stood up straight and smoothen out his coat. "You almost sliced my face."

"Yeah," Wuming seconded. "A lot of his fangirls would cry if his face would get damaged."

Feng Xuan's eyebrow quirked up. "Fangirls?"

Qing Chen elbowed Wuming. It had been so much of a hassle to get rid of all the chocolates and food he had been receiving the past few weeks. At the end of each night, he had them sent to orphanages. He ignored the question. "You look well."

Feng Xuan looked down at herself. "Still learning," she smiled up at him.

"Are those double-edged swords?!" exclaimed Qing Lok, pushing past his brothers. "I've only seen it in games and never knew anyone who uses it." He looked like an excited kid rubbing his hands together. "May I?"