It didn't matter much, and Ai Muran didn't press further. Her gaze shifted back to Lord Quan the Fourth, who had been sitting quietly and motionless for a while. She scooped up a bowl of fish soup for him and handed it over, "Young Emperor, have some fish soup…"
"Get me some noodles."
Possessively pushing away the bowl of soup, Emperor Quan commanded with an imperative tone, both domineering and arrogant. His face bore a foray look like a wolf, exuding an air of invincibility. Of course, his remark was directed squarely at Zhan Se, with a steely resolve that lacked the gentlemanly demeanor he had shown towards Ai Muran.
In that moment, she had a bizarre illusion—were the noodles in her bowl somehow made of Tang Sanzang's flesh?
Otherwise, why be so fierce?
With a flutter of her long curling eyelashes, Zhan Se picked out one-third of her noodles for him, including the minced meat she didn't care for.
