"Yes, fine, the man has a jawline carved by the gods and hair like spun silk, but he has the personality of a wet rock! You want to abandon the Drunken Sword to go stare at his pretty face?! I forbid it!"
Ji'an stared at her Master for a long, agonizingly silent moment. She slowly dragged a hand down her face, letting out a groan of pure, concentrated exhaustion.
'God riddance. He thinks I have a crush on Elder Qin?!' Ji'an realized that her soul was leaving her body. 'He thinks I'm a teenage boy with a tragic infatuation for a three-hundred-year-old ice cube??? The heck is wrong with this old man?!'
"Master," Ji'an said, her voice terrifyingly flat. "I am only sixteen years old, and that Elder Qin is an old hag. I do not have 'designs' on his pretty face! I would rather deep-fry my own boots than spend five minutes talking to that man!"
Jiu Zui stopped pacing. "You... you don't?"
