"I said you could leave any time you wished," Jun Moyan watched him coldly.
"What do you want me to say?" For more chapters visıt NoveIꜰire.net
"The power behind you."
"Don’t you, the third young master Jun, have the means to reach the heavens? Investigate it yourself," Ais taunted him with a smile.
"I have little patience, if you don’t speak, I will hand you over to Shangguan Yu." For Ais, who came from a background that was half-dark, half-light, and played with unclean hands, the last thing he wanted was to have contact with the military.
"You can’t scare me," Ais said nonchalantly, yet still added, "If I say it’s not the Baiming Sect, would you believe me?"
Seeing Jun Moyan’s reaction, Ais chuckled: "See, you wouldn’t believe it anyhow."
"..." Jun Moyan looked at him, silent.
Faced with the reticent Jun Moyan, Ais reluctantly said, "I can clearly tell you, it’s not the Baiming Sect, as for who it really is..."
As he spoke, he suddenly smiled, "Not only Jun Moyan has backbone, I, Ais, when I don’t want to talk, even if you lock me up or put a knife to my neck, don’t expect me to say another word."
"If that’s the case, then I will just open the door wide and wait for the people behind you to come and rescue you," Jun Moyan’s voice was as cold and emotionless as ever.
He seemed to be born with that poker face, never showing any emotions.
"Then you might be disappointed."
Ais switched to the other leg, continuing to lounge, a smile brimming as he said, "You can’t keep me locked up."
"Let’s just see about that," Jun Moyan said, gave Ais a deep look, and then turned and left.
Ais looked up, gazing at the bright sunlight through the small window, which forced him to squint his eyes.
Then, he curled his lips into an inscrutable slight smile...
"Xiaoguai? Wake up..."
The somewhat anxious voice of Qing Yi echoed from the hall, tightening Jun Moyan’s heart as he just reached the doorway.
"You’ve really messed up this time, when the third young master comes back, he’ll definitely flay you," Qing Yi turned and reproached the drunken slob on the couch.
But the tone carried more worry than blame.
"Ah well, it’s just some red wine, it’s not that serious. Besides, how was I to know this little thing can’t hold its liquor? Others may fall over after one glass, but just one sip knocks it out," the drunk looked at Wen Xiao’ai on the small table, unable to stand steadily, and chuckled, oblivious to the approaching danger.
"You better find a place to hide."
Qing Yi half-squatted at the table, holding a new milk bottle for Wen Xiao’ai, yet inside the bottle was the sobering tea that Xiaocha had just made.
He brought the nipple to the somewhat dizzy Wen Xiao’ai’s lips: "Xiaoguai, try and drink a bit."
Wen Xiao’ai felt the world spinning, as if standing on a large clump of cotton, very unstable.
"What’s wrong with it?"
A cold voice, chilling enough to freeze one’s soul, suddenly rang out, startling both Qing Yi and the drunk on the couch.
"Thi, third young master," Qing Yi quickly stood up, hiding the milk bottle with the sobering tea behind his back.
Jun Moyan looked toward the wavering Wen Xiao’ai on the table, unable to discern directions, and scooped it up, bringing it close to his face to sniff.
When he smelled the alcohol emitted from its little mouth, his face immediately darkened, becoming terrifyingly gloomy.
His eyes, filled with anger, glared at the drunk on the couch, he warned coldly, "If there’s a next time, watch out for your legs."
After having said this, he carried the tipsy Wen Xiao’ai upstairs.
The drunk blinked, "He can’t really be mad, can he?"