Chapter Sixty-Two: Master, Please Don't Betray Me

“Where did Master go last night?” I asked him again.

A thought crossed my mind—could he have left me behind and sneaked off to the brothel next door all by himself? If that were true, it would be terribly unfair. How could he go out to have fun and not remember to bring his beloved disciple along?

“Do you really want to know?”

He didn’t answer my question directly but asked me in return.

“No, not at all. I’m just curious, that’s all. Just curious,” I replied quickly, waving my hands in a fluster to show I wasn’t prying into his private affairs, especially since his brows had knitted together slightly, as if he were displeased.

“Curious?” The corners of his mouth lifted, as if he were smiling again. “No matter how curious you are, I won’t tell you where I went last night.”

This was simply too much.

Fine, if you won’t tell me, I won’t ask anymore. I pouted and buried my head in my bowl, inwardly shouting, Purple Lotus is so mean! Far too mean!

With a simmering frustration in my chest, I ignored him and quickly scooped up the porridge into my mouth. The tip of my chopsticks had just touched my lips when the porridge clinging to it fell onto the table. How annoying. Why do mortals insist on using chopsticks to eat? Wouldn’t it be much easier to use their hands?

Chopsticks—how bothersome. Just as bothersome as Purple Lotus.

In a fit of irritation, I bit down hard on the chopsticks.

“What’s wrong? Do you want to eat the chopsticks instead of the porridge?”

At some point, his gaze had shifted to me. Now, he looked at me as if I were a performing monkey, thoroughly entertained.

“No, I’m not eating the chopsticks,” I explained earnestly, pulling the chopsticks from my mouth.

“Then why did you shove them in your mouth? Are you trying to tell your master that you’re using them to pick your teeth?” He looked at me with amused certainty, as though convinced I was indeed gnawing on the chopsticks.

Pick my teeth? That was a good excuse—certainly sounded better than eating chopsticks.

To make him believe me, I ran the chopsticks along my teeth a few more times and said, “That’s right! I’m just using the chopsticks to pick my teeth.” Then I pulled them out and held them up before him with a bright smile. “Look, Master, they’re squeaky clean now.”

“Uh…” He turned slightly aside to avoid the chopsticks I held out, his expression turning a bit unpleasant. “You keep those to yourself. Your master has no such peculiar taste.”

“Keep them?”

I grinned, pulled the chopsticks back, and licked them.

“Not bad, not bad, they still taste sweet. I’ll just keep them for myself, then. Master, please don’t betray me, all right?”

“Uh…” He hesitated, but still agreed.

Thinking back to how I’d woken up in his bed this morning, a ripple of delight warmed my heart. Suppressing the excitement, I tried to sound calm as I asked, “Last night, when did you carry me to bed?”

“When?” he repeated softly, then replied coolly, “Not long ago—at most, half an hour before you woke.”

“Only—only half an hour?”

The chopsticks slipped from my hand and fell to the floor.

I’d thought it had been much longer. So it was only half an hour, after all.