Chapter 22: General Xing Visits the Lingerie Shop

After exiting the hospital room, Xing Haotian did not leave. Instead, he stood ramrod straight outside Wei Zi’s door. He stood like a sentry, no longer the formidable general, but a knight and guardian devoted to his woman. He stood tireless, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

Inside the room, Wei Zi sensed his presence, and a wave of annoyance washed over her. She knew perfectly well he hadn't left.

"If you have nothing better to do, could you buy me some clothes? I dislike hospital gowns, and I despise bathrobes even more!" Wei Zi called out from within. She refused to compromise on her comfort. Although she felt her previous life had been one of stifled desires and unfulfilled wishes, she had never been one to deny herself material comforts as a C-grade mystic.

Hospital gowns might have been worn by others, and bathrobes offered no sense of security.

"And don't forget the undergarments!" Wei Zi added, shouting loudly, perhaps driven by a sudden, petty urge to make things difficult for him.

Outside the door, Xing Haotian paused, then replied, "…Very well."

After giving his word, he took a deep breath, as if embarking on a solemn mission, and strode away from the ward.

Thanks to several unavoidable blind dates, Xing Haotian knew where the most luxurious shopping mall in the Imperial Capital was located. It was a place for high-end luxury goods—a destination women seemed to favor. After all, the women he had been introduced to were from noble families; they certainly wouldn't settle for less.

Such malls were not reserved solely for the elite; they were frequented by mistresses of powerful men, goddaughters of crime lords, and famous celebrities alike.

Xing Haotian drove his Green Dragon combat vehicle to the rooftop parking lot and stepped into the mall. Because of Wei Zi’s instruction, he walked with a grave expression straight into a luxury lingerie boutique.

The sight of countless undergarments brought a suspicious flush to his stern face. Yet, the thought of Wei Zi wearing them made his blood surge.

"Sir? How may I help you? Are you shopping for your girlfriend?" The sales clerk greeted him with a practiced smile. She thought to herself that this man was incredibly handsome—tall, robust, and wearing clothes that, while lacking a visible brand, clearly screamed bespoke craftsmanship. His red hair and eyes, glowing with the intensity of flames, were surely not dyed. At a glance, she knew he was a mystic.

Still, the clerk looked at him with a hint of confusion. Why did this man look so much like General Xing Haotian?

Of course, there was a difference between a man in uniform and one out of it, so she couldn't be certain.

"Yes," Xing Haotian replied, his body rigid with awkwardness.

The clerk offered a kind smile, sensing his nerves. "May I ask what size your girlfriend wears, or if she has a preference for a particular style?"

Size? Xing Haotian fell into deep thought. He certainly knew the size of Wei Zi’s bust—he had measured it himself when the fire poison had invaded her system. However, for a man whose experience with women was limited to exactly one, he had no concept of standard sizing. He had, however, torn one of her bras with his own hands.

With his powerful mystic energy and innate talent, his memory was near-perfect. He scanned the display, pointed to a set, and said, "Something like this."

The clerk looked skeptical. "That is a 32C. It’s suited for someone with a petite frame but a full bust. Are you sure this is the right size? Perhaps you should check?"

Petite frame? Full bust? That was definitely Wei Zi. He would have liked to ask her, but he didn't have her contact information.

"This will do," he insisted.

"Very well. What about styles and colors? I recommend this new seasonal collection. The designs are exquisite; your girlfriend would look beautiful in them!" She presented several options.

Determining the size had already left him mortified, and now she was asking about styles and talking about how "beautiful" she would look? Xing Haotian’s mind involuntarily conjured images of Wei Zi wearing these pieces, and he felt his blood pressure spike. He felt like his head was about to explode.

If he thought any further, he would surely make a fool of himself.

"I’ll take one of every new style," he blurted out, cutting her off.

"One of everything?" The clerk stared at him, stunned, before breaking into a wide, joyous smile. The new arrivals were the most expensive items in the store, and with over twenty designs, this was a massive sale. The commission would be substantial. Her smile grew even sweeter.

"Very well, sir. Please follow me to the counter." Xing Haotian didn't even glance at the price as he swiped his card, instantly spending over seven hundred thousand.

The clerk, feeling a bit gossipy, snuck a glance at his balance and saw a string of digits so long she couldn't count them. As a general, Xing Haotian’s salary was modest, but the bounties he received for the corpses of S-grade beasts—which were highly sought after by the Central Institute of Mysticism for research—piled up in his account to an astronomical sum.

After the transaction, over twenty beautifully wrapped boxes were prepared. The clerk, ecstatic over the sale, asked, "Sir, this is too much for you to carry. Would you like us to arrange delivery?"

"Yes, send it to this address." He signed his address—the Military Compound—and sent a message to Zhao Liang to receive the delivery. The Military Compound was a place few could enter.

Thinking that Wei Zi might need to wear one today, he plucked one of the boxes from the pile and carried it himself.

Having finally resolved the lingerie issue, Xing Haotian stepped out of the shop, his body finally relaxing as if he had just finished a brutal battle. Fortunately, it was late, and there were few people around; otherwise, if the General of the Huatian Kingdom were discovered shopping in a lingerie store, there was no telling what rumors might spread.

"General Xing?" A hesitant voice called out. Xing Haotian stiffened, a million silent curses racing through his mind.

He turned his neck with agonizing slowness toward the source of the voice.

Xing Haotian gritted his teeth, his voice low like a volcano on the verge of eruption: "Colonel Ming Zeyu!"

As he looked at Ming Zeyu, he felt his fire poison itching to flare up again. Why, he wondered, did he have such an overwhelming urge to snap Ming Zeyu’s thin neck?