His slow drawl sounded even more dangerous, "You say you don't know her? Then tell me why you would cross half a mountain every day to eat the sweet and sour spareribs she personally fries at the Nanshan Cafeteria, a habit that has lasted for hundreds of years. And now you come to tell me that you don't recognize her?"
Arao's pale, bloodless fingers clutched the bedding tightly, and she bit her lips, refusing to speak.
He seemed to look at his trembling little disciple without compassion. Seeing her remain silent for a long time, he leaned over, pressing half his body against hers, and pinched her chin with his fingers, forcing her to lift her pale, delicate face.
He gave her a casual glance, narrowing his eyes, and his mild expression seemed slightly aloof, "Traitorous disciple, when did you learn to deceive your master?"
