Mu Wanwan’s words were sincere, and every sentence sounded perfectly reasonable. Bai Shuiyao was directly stunned by her words. Her tear-filled eyes widened slightly, as if she were trying hard to find the right thing to say.
Mu Wanwan did not give her another chance to disgust her.
“Yaoyao, no matter what you want to do, as your young miss, I’ll support you. Don’t worry. As long as I hold on here in the Tyrant’s Residence, nothing will happen to you.”
Bai Shuiyao’s pretty cheeks flushed red. Her dark, limpid peach-blossom eyes glared at Mu Wanwan, yet she couldn’t say a single word.
She did not know why that foolish older sister from before had now become even better than her at acting pitiful and selling misery.
Mu Wanwan struck while the iron was hot and showed Bai Shuiyao the hands that had been cut by the dragon scales last night.
“Yaoyao, I still have to take care of that disabled tyrant. Look at my hands. They’re covered in his filthy blood, and there were little bugs too…”
One of Bai Shuiyao’s traits in the original book was that she loved cleanliness, and even more than that, she couldn’t stand insects. Earlier, she had been in such a hurry to persuade Mu Wanwan to run away with her that she hadn’t noticed Mu Wanwan’s dirty hands. Now that she saw them, she simply couldn’t bear it.
She was also holding in a bellyful of anger with nowhere to vent it, so she could only glare furiously at Mu Wanwan before leaving.
There were still tears hanging at the corners of Mu Wanwan’s eyes, but inside, she felt very satisfied.
She hated this kind of white lotus the most—someone who waved the banner of “I’m doing this for your own good” on the surface, while no one knew how they were scheming against you inside. Bai Shuiyao had probably never been blocked by someone using her own usual trick before.
After such a disturbance, Mu Wanwan could no longer sleep properly. Looking at the gradually brightening sky, she sighed, fetched water to wash up, and changed into another set of clothes she had brought with her. After thinking for a moment, she still took the last clean handkerchief she had, changed to a basin of clean water, and entered the room.
The bed curtains had been completely pulled open by her. As soon as she entered, she could see the tyrant lying paralysed on the jade bed.
He was still in the same position she had arranged for him last night, one arm placed to the side, his severed tail drooping to one side. He had not moved in the slightest.
Mu Wanwan walked to his side and looked at his dirty black hair, which was tangled together, and the bloodstains beneath his broken horns. Pity rose in her heart.
A great villain who had once covered the sky with one hand was now covered in filth. Judging by his appearance, he probably had not bathed in a long time either. It was bad enough that his tail was rotting, but even his body was dirty.
Mu Wanwan gently brushed aside the long, messy hair covering his eyes. Carefully avoiding his broken horns, she used the damp handkerchief to wipe away the dirt on his face bit by bit. Mr. Dragon’s features gradually became clear.
Last night, Mu Wanwan had not really dared to look at his face. Only now, after wiping away most of the bloodstains and filth, did she discover that he was not as ugly as she had imagined.
His thick black brows slanted sharply towards his temples. Below them were slightly deep-set eyes. His crow-black eyelashes were long and curled, like two small fans. His face was deathly pale, his nose bridge straight, and his thin lips were tightly pressed together. They were dry and cracked, marked with bruised purple colouring and blood scabs that did not match his face at all.
If not for the black-red lines that had nearly spread across his entire face, he should have been a handsome dragon.
Just as Mu Wanwan was thinking this, she saw the lines on Mr. Dragon’s cheek suddenly move. Her hand trembled in fright, and the entire handkerchief fell straight onto his face.
Mu Wanwan: “…”
She hurriedly picked up the handkerchief and said “sorry” several times in a row. After saying it, she even waited for a while before noticing that the tyrant had not woken up. The lines on his cheek, however, seemed almost alive, moving every now and then, just like the withered yellow scales on his body.
Mu Wanwan let out a sigh of relief. Only then did she relax with some amusement. Although she clearly knew he could not hear her, she still said softly, “From now on, I’ll wash your face every day… If I get the chance, I’ll wipe your tail too.”
Looking at Mr. Dragon’s now-revealed face, Mu Wanwan felt even more sympathy for him.
So he did have expressions.
His brows were tightly furrowed, his lips were bruised purple, his forehead was covered in cold sweat, and his eyelashes trembled uneasily. He looked very uncomfortable. Add to that his still-rotting tail—he must be in a great deal of pain.
Mu Wanwan felt uncomfortable inside and began calculating how to get him some medicine as soon as possible. Just then, a rather sharp female voice sounded from outside the door.
“Madam, it’s time for breakfast.”
Mu Wanwan knew Fuliu had arrived, so she put down the handkerchief in her hand and walked to the door, meeting Fuliu’s unfriendly gaze head-on.
“You only have fifteen minutes.”
Fuliu held a food box in her hand. Seeing Mu Wanwan come out, she handed it to her, clearly not intending to enter the room.
Mu Wanwan did not argue with her. From the moment she had transmigrated until now, she had not eaten a single thing and was very hungry. She nodded numbly, took the food box, and went back into the room. Lifting the lid, she picked up a steamed bun and began eating.
For breakfast, there were only steamed buns and a bowl of plain congee, along with a few strips of pickled vegetables. This was the original owner’s standard meal in the Tyrant’s Residence, so Mu Wanwan was not surprised.
But just as she was preparing to force down that very thin bowl of congee, the tyrant’s dry, cracked lips suddenly appeared clearly in her mind.
In the book, it was written that the tyrant’s strength was incomparably powerful. His usual food, clothing, and daily necessities were all the best. He drank wine brewed from spiritual fruits and ate meat from spiritual beasts. But now, he had become like this. He did not even have clothes, no one cleaned him, and as for food and drink, that was even less likely.
According to the original owner’s memories, experts above the third rank would not starve to death even if they went a week without eating. As for the tyrant, he had once been one of the seventh-rank experts standing at the peak of the continent. Even if he was now seriously injured and had become a vegetative dragon, he would not starve to death from not eating.
But he probably still felt uncomfortable.
From the time the original owner had married into the Tyrant’s Residence until now, six or seven days had already passed. In her impression, the tyrant had never eaten a single thing. Ao Qin had taken over the forces under his command, yet he had not sent anyone to deliver medicine, spiritual pills, or spiritual fruits. Calculating it this way, Mr. Dragon must have been hungry for a very long time.
The congee before her was still giving off waves of fragrance, but Mu Wanwan lost her previous appetite.
She originally wanted to harden her heart, finish the congee herself, ignore the tyrant, and let him go hungry.
Although she was nominally his bride for good luck, in reality, they were only strangers. What happened to him had nothing to do with her. Besides, the tyrant was currently a vegetative dragon. Even if she did not take care of him that attentively, he would not know…
But when Mu Wanwan truly tried to ignore him, this bowl of congee, which should have tasted fragrant and sweet, suddenly became so difficult to swallow, bland and tasteless.
Leave a Reply