Feng MuLing stood near the edge of the ship, missing his Yating. XueYa was blessed to have LiangLin here to hold in his arms while he was huddled in the corner of the fishy lower deck. Alone. With a bunch of burly single men that smelled of booze, fish and sweat.
But he supposed that was better than smelling of all that - and puke. Yating couldn't survive on a lulling ship longer than a few seconds before he grew sick and weak and barfed all over himself.
The sea beat into the hull of the ship, the wind gentle as it rustled through Feng MuLing's hair, tickling his cheeks. When the wind caught his hem and made them flutter up like they had minds of their own, Feng MuLing shot his gaze up to the upper deck.
Tao was grinning at him. The gold tooth caught the sunlight, irritating his eyes.
This kid...
