Mr. Dragon desperately suppressed the curse inside his body. As he listened to the person beside him ramble on about her plans for the days ahead, the tiny trace of consciousness he had finally managed to recover seemed to blur again.
Had he heard wrong?
He must have heard wrong.
With him looking like this now, how could this cheap wife who had been brought in to bring him good luck possibly not mind at all? She had still been crying nonstop a few days ago. Had she changed so quickly?
Mr. Dragon desperately suppressed the strange feelings gradually rising in his heart. He felt both expectant and afraid, and he frantically brainwashed himself.
Impossible.
He was already a useless dragon. His tail was rotten, his horns were gone, and his whole body was covered in curse marks. He was so ugly, so foul-smelling. How could she possibly not despise him?
Even when he had looked his best, no one had ever treated him with true sincerity. This person must have some unspeakable motive for approaching him…
She had fed him congee so gently just now. That had to be an act, right?
Even though the tyrant himself did not know what benefit there could be for Mu Wanwan to pretend like this. Even he did not know what he still had left that was worth scheming for.
His cultivation had been mostly sealed. He had been cursed. His most precious horns and the tip of his tail were gone. After his defeat, all his possessions had been searched and taken away. Because he had trusted the wrong person, all his power was gone too. If he really had to say there was still something valuable on him, perhaps it would be the core inside him that had shattered into several pieces.
Oh, and if his bones were boiled into soup, the taste should probably be decent too.
He just didn’t know whether the curses of the abyssal monsters had been carved into his bones as well.
Mr. Dragon thought mockingly.
But no matter what he thought, Mu Wanwan knew nothing about it. She counted out, bit by bit, how difficult their future life would be, carefully calculating how to reasonably divide their monthly allowance. Her voice was very soft, like fire seeping through every crack, gradually melting the mental defences Mr. Dragon had struggled so hard to rebuild.
“It’s mid-October now, and the monthly allowance is only that little bit. There isn’t much spiritual rice either.”
As Mu Wanwan calculated their three meals a day in the future, she suddenly thought of something. She reached out and touched Mr. Dragon’s exposed abdomen. After confirming that aside from neatly arranged abdominal muscles, it was only slightly sunken, she relaxed.
Her movement was actually very gentle. But that delicate touch, carrying a hint of body warmth, suddenly landed on Mr. Dragon, who had never had close contact with anyone except during fights. It was like several roaring fireworks exploding at once, carrying a faint tingling current that stunned him completely.
She touched him!
Only this one thought remained in his mind. It took Mr. Dragon a long while before he finally heard what she said next.
“It’s a little sunken, so his stomach probably isn’t injured,” Mu Wanwan muttered to herself. “Then he should be able to eat other things too. I just don’t know what kind of seeds that packet contains. It would be great if they were vegetable seeds…”
Was she checking whether his stomach was all right?
A strange feeling slowly rose in his heart. The tyrant’s eyelashes trembled continuously as he silently explained to himself that when he was in half-dragon form, his stomach was always a little sunken. He was different from other dragons.
When he was young, it was because he never had enough to eat. After he grew up, his stomach was still very small.
Unpleasant memories came together with the itching and pain in his dragon tail. The monster’s curse seemed to have found a small opportunity and began rampaging through the tyrant’s limbs and bones.
Mr. Dragon did his utmost to suppress the pain in his meridians. His face turned deathly pale, and cold sweat streamed down.
Mu Wanwan noticed that his brows were furrowed more tightly than usual. Her gaze touched upon the tiny black insects constantly crawling in and out of the rotten half of his dragon tail, and her scalp went numb.
“Does it hurt a lot?”
She gave herself some encouragement and left behind one sentence.
“I’ll help you right away.”
Mu Wanwan stood up a little anxiously. She remembered that there were some knives and gauze in the side hall. Mr. Dragon’s tail wound could not be delayed any longer. She also had to get some hot water.
But her disorderly footsteps and breathing were like sharp swords, shattering the tiny trace of expectation that had just risen in the tyrant.
She really had been pretending.
Listen to that frightened tone of hers.
She must have been scared by his appearance. Everything she said earlier really had been an act!
The tyrant sneered inwardly.
He could feel some pus, mixed with bloody scales, continuously seeping out of that terrifying tail. The black-red curse rose and fell constantly. It was disgusting.
Even he found himself disgusting. Why should he hold on to any expectations?
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