My Wandering Swordsman

My aunt's real name is Yu Yang. She's seven or eight years older than me. I heard she was an art student who got into university. My dad and stepmother were at their most affectionate, and they even lived in Foshan for a while.

Back when we were together, we were the kind of kids who played in the mud and played with iron hoops at the village entrance. Plus, I was young, so I didn't really pay much attention to my aunt's appearance.

As for clothing.

My aunt's clothes were always simple. In winter, she would wear a long cotton-padded coat, and in summer, she would wear a white T-shirt with jeans. Wearing sandals and showing her toes was considered unusual.

But that's exactly the kind of person he is.

You're trying to connect me with this ethereal, fairy-like woman in front of me?!

I was dumbfounded. I opened my mouth, but couldn't utter a single word.

My aunt didn't give me a chance to speak. She stood up and looked at Assistant Director Wang with an unfriendly expression:

"Director Wang, this person is my cousin."

As soon as he finished speaking, the set fell silent.

The smile on Assistant Director Wang's face froze, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

The staff and extras nearby exchanged bewildered glances, with one muttering, "Is the famous Ms. Yu Weiwei's cousin an extra?"

"Shh, what do you know? This is called gilding, you know?"

"Oh, oh, oh."

Whispers rose and fell, like ripples on water caused by the wind, lingering for a long time.

I was completely confused. What? Is my aunt famous in Hengdian?

After a long silence, Assistant Director Wang coughed a few times and said awkwardly:

"Weiwei, look at this mess, it's like the flood washed away the Dragon King's temple, I'm so sorry."

My brows furrowed instantly.

I don't like Assistant Director Wang, I really don't like him.

If you previously disliked him because he confused right and wrong and fawned over capital, then this time it's a kind of physical nausea.

Because when this guy was talking, he stared straight at his aunt, looking her up and down from her neck to her ankles, his little eyes like flies drawn to honey.

I could tell with my eyes closed what filthy things he's thinking right now.

After saying this, Assistant Director Wang reluctantly withdrew his gaze, then changed the subject:

"However, putting aside whether he's a nephew or not, this person did indeed injure the First Prince, and his family..."

My aunt glanced at us on the ground, raised an eyebrow, and without saying a word, pulled out a few banknotes from her bag and handed them over.

"Director Wang, please deliver this money to the Crown Prince as an apology. If there are any problems, he can come to me."

After saying that, my aunt ignored the stares of those around her, grabbed my hand, and started walking out.

I was incredibly moved at that moment.

What's even more absurd is that, with our fingers interlocked, the strange thoughts I had just suppressed resurfaced.

My aunt's palms are warm and her fingers are slender. Did Meng Tian feel the same way when he held Yu Shu's hand?

wrong!

I quickly shook my head.

Ji Xiaosong, you can't do this. She's your aunt. Even if there's no blood relation, the seniority is there.

I snapped out of my daze and quickly said, "Auntie, Auntie, and my two brothers too."

The aunt paused, grabbed one of the extras, and pulled out some loose bills from her pocket: "Could you please take those two to the hospital? If you need more money, come back to me."

She seemed to have a high reputation on set, and the man nodded emphatically: "Leave it to me, Sister Weiwei."

She dragged me through the crowd until we reached a white Citroën Fukang.

She took out her car keys, opened the door, and gestured towards the passenger seat: "Get in."

"what?"

She even bought a car? Didn't she only graduate a few years ago? That car must have cost at least 100,000 yuan.

"Auntie, you won the lottery?"

This is the most reasonable explanation I can think of.

She smiled without saying anything and pushed me into the car.

As soon as the car door closed, a faint scent of perfume wafted out, mingling with my aunt's fragrance—fresh yet unfamiliar.

I had a lot of questions on my mind, so I just asked:

"Auntie, why did you change your name to Weiwei? Are you a big star?"

From what I've seen and heard today, being able to play the leading lady, wear expensive clothes, and have your own private car is definitely a privilege reserved for big stars.

When I asked that question, my aunt's eyes dimmed slightly, as if a dark cloud had passed through them.

After a few seconds, she reached out and tapped my forehead:

"Silly boy, Yu Weiwei is my stage name."

She only answered half the question, avoiding any discussion about the big star.

"Oh~" I replied blankly.

The car started.

I instinctively reached for the seatbelt.

To my surprise, this movement aggravated the injury on my back, causing me to gasp in pain.

"hiss--"

My aunt shifted into neutral, frowned as she looked at the crisscrossing wounds on my arm, and scolded me playfully:

"Are you crazy? What are you doing fighting in Hengdian?"

I muttered to myself, "He provoked me first..."

A hint of heartache flashed in my aunt's eyes. She didn't reply, started the car, and said, "Come on, I'll take you to the hospital first."

I quickly shook my head: "No, no, no, they're just superficial wounds, a simple bandage will do."

My aunt looked at me carefully for a few moments, but didn't insist on it further.

The car drove quite a distance before finally stopping in front of a hotel. The hotel was nicely decorated, and could be considered mid-range or higher.

The boss was a fat man in his forties. When he glanced at my aunt's face, a hint of amazement flashed in his eyes. When he looked at me, his face was full of envy.

My aunt seemed used to this kind of look and ignored it, immediately asking to book a hotel room for a week.

I quickly waved my hand: "No, no, no, Auntie, seven days isn't necessary."

She glanced at me: "Do you have a place to stay?"

"I lived in a tin-roofed shack on the film set."

My aunt looked up at the price list on the wall, her eyes flickered a few times, and silently changed seven days to one day.

I had a vague feeling that she wasn't living the kind of life I imagined a big star to be living, but my aunt didn't want to say more, so I didn't press her further.

Once upstairs, my aunt threw her bag on the bed, turned around and looked me up and down, her brows furrowing more and more.

"Take off your clothes," she said.

I was taken aback: "Huh?"

"What? Let me see the injury on your back."

As she spoke, the aunt turned and went into the bathroom. When she came out, she had a wet towel and a small bottle of iodine in her hand: "Those thugs don't know their own strength. Don't leave any injuries."

I hesitated for two seconds, then obediently turned around and gritted my teeth to pull the T-shirt off my head.

There was a moment of silence behind me.

Then I felt my aunt's fingers lightly touch my shoulder. I remember that spot; it was where I had been tapped twice with a stuntman's wooden stick.

"How did it get like this..." she stammered.

I didn't say anything.

The next second, a warm towel was placed on me, and my delicate fingers inevitably slid across my skin.

"Ugh—"

It hurts, but it's very soft!

My aunt's breathing settled on the back of my neck, sometimes rapid, sometimes slow, carrying a faint fragrance...

My heart started beating faster and faster, completely out of control.

"Auntie..."

"Um?"

"When did you learn to do makeup?" This was the only question I could think of, as I was eager to change the subject.

My aunt paused for a moment, then didn't answer.

The towel was slowly moved down my spine, wiping away the blood. My aunt patted my shoulder:

"Get down!"