Chapter Fifty-Two: Such Reasons Cannot Be Spoken

A reason? Give him a reason for insisting on changing the place.

I don’t know—maybe I just don’t want him to see those girls with bare arms and low necklines. Is that reason enough? But if I really had to say that to him, I’m not sure I could bring myself to utter it.

Besides, Zilian isn’t exactly young anymore—if not ten thousand years, then at least five thousand. If I told him this, he’d probably retort that he’s not young either, and what’s the harm in looking at women? That would make me seem meddlesome and overly fussy.

“Master,” I pouted, looking at him, affecting a coquettish tone, “I don’t like this inn. Let’s go somewhere else!”

“A reason. Your master needs a reason.”

He didn’t even look up, just tapped his fingers against the table as he spoke.

A reason—I do have one. But I really can’t tell you!

“If you won’t say, then I won’t leave either.”

He reached for the teapot on the table, poured himself some tea, and began drinking again.

“Master.”

I shot him a slightly reproachful glance, but seeing that he ignored me, I grew anxious and flustered, not knowing what to do. Suddenly, as if the heavens had noticed my predicament, I spotted a man two tables over leering at Zilian, practically drooling. Disgusted, I turned away and looked at Zilian with grave seriousness.

“Master, master, what are you looking at?”

I blinked at him repeatedly, glancing in that man’s direction, trying to signal him to look as well. To my dismay, he didn’t respond; instead, he set down his teacup and said coolly, “Little Fish, are your eyelids twitching?”

Twitching eyelids? My enthusiasm and determination to get him out of here were instantly doused by his indifferent remark, leaving me cold to the core.

I pulled a long face and lamented inwardly. True, my blinking wasn’t exactly seductive, but surely it didn’t deserve to be dismissed so bluntly! If he’d at least thought I was trying to flirt, I could have lived with that. Clearly, Zilian is entirely lacking in romantic sensibility!

It’s no wonder he’s remained single for thousands of years. Though his looks rival the immortals—peerless and dignified—what does it matter? In the Six Realms, there are countless handsome men.

His skin is as pale as moonlight, his fingers slender and delicate, almost as soft as mine. But looks alone are not enough. Zilian, who can’t utter sweet nothings to charm a woman, who can’t read subtle cues, is the kind of dull immortal that, aside from a foolish fish like me, no woman in all the realms would ever take a liking to.

It seems that saving this eternal bachelor is a task that falls solely to me.

“What are you standing there for? Didn’t you say you were hungry? Now that we’re at the inn, you seem distracted, not nearly as eager as you were on the road.”

He lowered his gaze, lifted the teacup, refilled it, and began sipping once more.

I was about to step forward and answer when, suddenly, a young attendant in a small cap rushed over from the side, blocking our table and inserting himself between Zilian and me. In the past, I would have kicked him out the door for such insolence. But with Zilian present, I had to restrain myself. I couldn’t kick him, so I simply stepped forward, grabbed the attendant’s sleeve, and pulled him aside, putting distance between him and Zilian. Then, obediently, I returned to my spot, standing motionless once more.

The attendant shot me a displeased look, then turned back to Zilian with a fawning smile. “Honored guest, what can I get for you? Our inn boasts every delicacy and wine you could imagine. Whatever you order, we’ll bring it to your table in no time!”

Hmph, what a braggart! I glared at the attendant with deep disdain.

Zilian glanced at me, his lips curving in what seemed like a faint smile. When I tried to confirm it, he picked up his teacup again, as if he hadn’t had water in ages.

“Then bring us every carp dish your inn has—one of each.”

With that, he set down his cup, his face breaking into a smile as warm as the spring breeze in March.