Chapter 38: Honghong vs. Heifeng

Then, a quiet thought flickered in her mind: *If the little master survives this ordeal with more spark in her eyes, maybe it’s actually a blessing in disguise.*

And honestly, it was rare—her master so furious, yet still choosing to stay instead of storming off.

Wang Zhong’s eyes darted sideways. He pretended not to notice the little master’s mood and grinned warmly at Xiao Tangbao. “Come on, Uncle’s gonna carry you to see Honghong.”

With that, he scooped her up.

“Thank you, Bopopo…” Xiao Tangbao chirped sweetly, completely unbothered as she nestled into his arms.
Short legs, short patience—why walk when you can ride?

Su Liuhu opened his mouth, ready to snatch her back, but one look at her bright, beaming smile made him slump down in defeat.
Why didn’t she like being held by him?
Had she grown to dislike him?

Suddenly, the roasted grasshopper he’d just eaten tasted like ash.

As soon as the big black horse spotted Xiao Tangbao, it went wild—kicking its front hooves, then its back ones, kicking up dust like a tiny tornado. Within minutes, the stable floor was pockmarked with little craters.

“Honghong… Cichongchong…”

Xiao Tangbao quickly handed over the last fried grasshopper.
Whether the horse could taste anything or not was anyone’s guess—but since she gave it, it ate it without hesitation.

“Hmph! It’s a black horse, why’d you name it ‘Honghong’? Stupid,” Yuan Xuanjin muttered, arms crossed, trying hard to look cool.

Xiao Tangbao stuck out her lower lip and glared at him, voice high-pitched and fierce. “Shuantianxia—”

She said it too fast, spitting out a jumble of nonsense syllables.

Su Liuhu: …
Wang Zhong: …

After their earlier confusion, they’d managed to piece together *some* meaning from her babble. But now? What in the world was she even saying?

Wang Zhong turned to his little master, silently pleading: *You’ve got to understand this, right?*

He wasn’t about to believe his little master couldn’t make sense of it.

But as usual, his little master proved him wrong—again.

Yuan Xuanjin’s face flushed red, fighting to keep his cool, then blurted out, “Who says every black horse in the world is called Heifeng?! My Heifeng is unique! Only Heifeng is classy! Honghong? That’s tacky! So tacky! Sounds terrible!”

Turns out, Xiao Tangbao had been saying: *All black horses named Heifeng? Too cliché!*

Xiao Tangbao blinked.
She hadn’t expected the little boy to actually *get* it.

The truth? She hadn’t even understood herself.

Wang Zhong stared, stunned.
He never thought his little master would speak so much—so *long*—in one go.

Usually, the kid spoke in clipped, precise bursts. One word when two would do? Waste of breath.
Now? This whole speech sounded like pure fluff.

But of course, Wang Zhong wouldn’t dare say that aloud.

Seeing Yuan Xuanjin fuming, Xiao Tangbao decided to finish him off—completely.

She pointed a chubby finger at the patch of red hair on the horse’s forehead and piped up in her softest, sweetest tone:
“See? Red hair—four strokes, four dots, four reds… The newspaper of Honghong… uh… uh…”

There! The red tuft was the *finishing touch*, the symbol of Honghong, the crown of all horses—of course it deserved the name *Honghong*!

By the time she finished, her cheeks were pink, and she took a few deep, gasping breaths.
Whew. Talking that fast? Exhausting. Her lungs were burning.

But for the sake of making Yuan Xuanjin admit defeat—she pushed through.

Her little mouth opened again…

And out came nothing but gibberish.
Just a string of meaningless code.