Chapter 61: Where Did Master Go Last Night?

"Are you hungry?" Zilian asked, his gaze fixed on me.

"Starving, starving! Little Fish is so hungry," I replied eagerly, nodding at him with a wide grin.

"If you're hungry, then come and have some breakfast."

"Thank you, Master!" I hopped off the bed and dashed to the table, plopping myself down opposite him. I reached out for the bowl on the table, but the rim was scorching hot. In this height of summer, it felt almost unbearable. The moment my fingers touched the edge, I quickly drew them back.

"So hot, so hot." I brought my hands to my mouth and blew on them vigorously. My usually fair and tender little hands instantly turned red, like pig’s trotters, from the hateful bowl of porridge.

"Master, my hand is hurt," I whimpered, looking up at him with teary eyes.

He furrowed his brows slightly, his lips twitching as he rose from the table. He walked to the bedside, retrieved the bundle tossed in the corner, and rummaged through it. Then, with a darkened expression, he returned to sit beside me.

"Master," I called softly, stealing a glance at him. He looked rather displeased. "Hm," he replied, taking my wrist and pulling my hand in front of him.

"Getting hurt just from eating breakfast—what am I to do with you?" He sighed, sounding helpless.

Feeling guilty, I stayed quiet and watched him in silence.

"Let me put some medicine on your hand. Don't move," he instructed.

"Okay," I answered obediently, placing my scalded hand in his palm. I could feel the calluses on his fingers, formed from years of wielding a sword, gently brushing over my burned skin.

In an instant, a cool sensation seeped into my palm, and the pain that had been so intense just moments ago vanished completely.

"Master, this medicine is amazing!" I exclaimed, marveling at how the swelling had gone down and my skin looked even fairer and smoother than before.

"All right, now hurry and eat your breakfast," he said, tucking the medicine back into his sleeve and returning to sit across from me.

"Yes, Master," I replied cheerfully. I scooped up a spoonful of millet porridge and tasted it. It was sweet and sticky, melting in my mouth without the need to chew—slipping straight down to my stomach.

As I swallowed, I couldn't help but glance at Zilian. His movements as he ate were graceful and unhurried; he chewed slowly, taking only small bites each time. It was a pleasure to watch. In contrast, my own eating manners seemed terribly uncouth.

Ahem, I wondered if he had noticed my earlier wolfish devouring. I slowed down and, stealing another glance at him, saw that he had paused and seemed about to look my way. I quickly picked up the bowl and began eating rapidly again, gulping down mouthful after mouthful.

Only after I had finished every last drop of porridge did I dare to look at him again. "Master, did you not sleep in this room last night?"

"No," he replied, setting his bowl down.

"Oh!" No wonder—no wonder when Buddha Terrace came looking for me last night, Master didn’t catch us. It turned out Zilian had already left, and the person sleeping in the room wasn’t him.