Chapter 92
Chapter 92: The Misunderstanding Over Six Eggs
Granny Chen carried a red-lacquer tray, steps light and quick, slipping into the study at the Auspicious Cloud Residence as quietly as a cat on the hunt.
On the tray sat a bowl of soft, steaming plain congee, white as snow. Beside it were crisp little dishes: bright green cucumber strips, sweet-and-sour diced radish, rosy fermented tofu, and a small plate of pickles.
But the most eye-catching part was the eggs.
Six boiled eggs, peeled clean and stacked like a small shining hill.
Inside the study, Lin Qing Xuan sat by the window copying Buddhist scriptures.
Morning light filtered through carved latticework, scattering pale patterns over his plain robes, gilding his lean silhouette until he looked almost unreal—like someone painted into the world rather than born into it.
Hearing the soft footfalls, he set down his brush and lifted his eyes.
His gaze skimmed the tray and landed on the eggs. His brows drew together by a hair.
“Matron,” he said, voice clear and cool, “why are there so many eggs?”
Granny Chen’s face split into a grin so wide her wrinkles seemed to bloom.
She placed the tray at the corner of his desk and leaned in, lowering her voice into a conspiratorial hush.
“Young Master, weren’t you… rather exhausted last night?”
She stressed exhausted, then flicked her eyes toward the inner room and snapped them back, unable to hide her thirst for gossip.
Lin Qing Xuan’s fingers paused.
A drop of ink slid from the brush tip and bled into a dark bruise on the white paper.
He didn’t look at her. He simply lifted his hand and pointed toward the windowsill.
Granny Chen followed his finger.
There, a jet-black mystic cat lounged with ridiculous grace, licking his paw, green eyes half-lidded in the morning sun.
“Matron,” Lin Qing Xuan said evenly, “you’ve misunderstood. They’re for him.”
Granny Chen’s smile froze.
The hope in her eyes popped like a bubble and vanished without a trace.
“Ah…” Her shoulders slumped as if someone had pulled the strings from her body. “This old servant understands. Then… Young Master, please enjoy.”
She shuffled out, back bent with disappointment.
The moment she stepped through the courtyard gate, a head poked out from behind the wall.
Old Chen Tou was waiting like a sentry. He grabbed her sleeve, whispering urgently, “Well? How many eggs did Young Master eat?”
Granny Chen lifted her eyes slowly, and her grievance could’ve been wrung out like water.
“Eat?” she snapped. “Eat my foot.”
“Six eggs. All of them for that black charcoal lump by the window.”
She let out a sigh so long it sounded like mourning. “Looks like you were right. Nothing happened.”
The old couple stared at each other.
Granny Chen’s eyes were full of grief. Old Chen Tou’s held a flash of pure relief.
Back in the study, Tuan Tuan hopped down onto the desk without a sound and strutted over, smug as a lord.
He spoke like a man, each word crisp and arrogant. “At least you have a conscience. You remembered to prepare breakfast for this young master.”
Lin Qing Xuan didn’t even blink. He peeled an egg with unhurried precision, crushed the yolk with his fingers, and pushed it toward Tuan Tuan.
“Talk,” he said. “In the princess manor, what did you see?”
Tuan Tuan sniffed the yolk, licked it once, decided it was excellent, and ate while speaking through mouthfuls.
“That day at the market, I noticed shady people tailing you. I followed them and saw them enter a large mansion.”
Lin Qing Xuan’s eyes sharpened. “And then?”
“And then?” Tuan Tuan licked crumbs from his lips. “This young master waited outside for two days. Not one of those rats came out. I got bored and came back.”
“But it nagged at me. That place was wrong. At night, the outside was crawling with wandering ghosts—like a festival. So I went again.”
He paused for dramatic effect, eyes bright with delight. “This time I slipped inside. Perfect timing. Three men against one woman—tsk, tsk. An epic battle. Was I supposed to leave? Of course I watched.”
He licked his paw, savoring the memory like a meal.
“They called her princess. Her dragon aura was thick—no mistake. The old emperor’s daughter.”
He pawed at the empty plate, demanding more.
Lin Qing Xuan picked up a second egg and repeated the same careful routine, crushing the yolk and sliding it over.
Tuan Tuan ate faster.
“That mansion reeked of death qi. Plenty of people have died there. And mixed into it was a stench of lust so heavy it made my fur stand on end. Death qi and lust qi tangled together—wrong, wrong, wrong.”
He shuddered with exaggerated drama. “I’m a heart demon. I’m sensitive to that kind of thing. If I stayed, even my mind would start to blur. So I withdrew and came back to tell you.”
Lin Qing Xuan lifted an eyebrow, a faint edge of mockery in his voice. “And you, a heart demon born of Buddhist and devil desire, were affected by a little devil qi?”
“Who says I was affected!” Tuan Tuan bristled, tail twitching like a whip. “I was worried Little Man would wake up and panic when she couldn’t find me. You’re such an unromantic Buddhist Scion—what would you know? In Little Man’s heart, I’m number one. You’re at best second.”
Then his eyes narrowed into a wicked line. “Speaking of which—what did you two do last night, behind my back? If I hadn’t gotten drunk on devil qi, I would’ve camped at the bedside and sucked all your lust qi clean!”
Heat climbed from Lin Qing Xuan’s neck to his cheeks in one merciless rush.
Last night’s scenes rose, vivid and uncontrollable—Little Man’s face, her voice, the way she had looked at him—
“What business is it of yours!” he snapped, voice low, and somehow softer at the end than he intended.
Tuan Tuan rolled his eyes so hard he nearly toppled.
“Hey. How long are you going to let her sleep?”
He pushed Lin Qing Xuan’s hand with a paw. “When are you making her get up and pat my butt? You two had your fun—what about me!”
Lin Qing Xuan’s composure finally returned, dragged back by sheer vulgarity.
“Wild cat,” he warned, eyes cooling, “say one more shameless thing and I’ll lock you in a cage tonight and chant quiet sutras at you until dawn.”
Tuan Tuan kept eating, pretending he hadn’t heard.
Little Man would wake up eventually.