The Dragon of the Fallen Demon Master Sister in a Book - Chapter 20

Seeing Wen Qian again, Chris felt that she and A-Zhuo must have some kind of cursed fate with this woman.

Good grief, why did they run into her here again? And they had already left the territory of Tianxuan Sect! How on earth did this happen? It seemed like they couldn’t escape her no matter where they went!!!

Wen Qian’s attire today was relatively simple, but her violet-gold brocade robe still unmistakably flaunted her status, making it impossible to hide her overwhelming nobility. It was as if she was blatantly announcing to everyone:

“Hey, I’m rich—filthy rich! Come rob me! I’m naive and loaded!”

Just one glance was enough to make Chris feel like her dragon eyes were about to be blinded by the sheer opulence.

Embroidered on the chest of Wen Qian’s deep purple robe was a fierce golden tiger, its fur meticulously stitched thread by thread, glittering so brightly it nearly seared Chris’ retinas.

That gold thread was probably real gold! Rich! Unbelievably rich! But… Chris suddenly recalled what she had overheard earlier—wasn’t Wen Qian’s father the prime minister? Shouldn’t a civil official like him have birds embroidered on his robes? Why a ferocious tiger? Unless… Wen Qian herself was a military officer?

The little dragon pondered this but couldn’t make sense of it. Her grasp of history wasn’t great anyway, so she resorted to her usual five-step coping mechanism: “Don’t know, don’t get it, don’t understand, can’t do it, won’t think about it.”

Wen Qian sat in the host’s seat, unceremoniously roasting a small wild boar. The carcass had already been cleaned and marinated, its four legs tied to the spit. Several people sat around her, watching but not helping, as if this were a common sight.

The moment Wen Qian spotted Feng Qingzhuo, her eyes lit up. She took a clean cloth from a guard, vigorously wiped her hands, then stood and bowed to Feng Qingzhuo, eagerly inviting her, “Senior Sister, please, come sit!”

The four wealthy merchants beside Wen Qian tactfully vacated their seats, excusing themselves in unison, “Since the young mistress has met old friends, we won’t intrude on your reunion.” With that, they stood and left, leaving only Feng Qingzhuo, Wen Qian, and Wen Qian’s guards.

This was already their third encounter. As the saying goes, “Third time’s the charm.” Feng Qingzhuo had coincidentally joined her caravan, and now Wen Qian was playing host. Since one shouldn’t slap a smiling face, Feng Qingzhuo, as the outsider, couldn’t very well refuse. So, she took a seat beside Wen Qian, bringing Chris along.

As night fell, the caravan members lit one bonfire after another. Feng Qingzhuo and Wen Qian sat at the very center of the camp, surrounded by layers of protection. Though unspoken, it was obvious—even if the managers were in danger, these two would be safe. The security was tight, with multiple safeguards in place.

Feng Qingzhuo and Wen Qian sat side by side near the campfire, over which a cleaned young wild boar was roasting. The boar had been gutted, split in half, basted with oil, drizzled with honey, coated in secret sauce, and scored with decorative cuts. As it sizzled, the rich aroma of roasting meat filled the air.

Christie suddenly thought, “Oh no! I wasn’t hungry before, but now I’m starving!” She couldn’t help but complain inwardly: “Dragons, oh dragons, you’re all such gluttons!”

Wen Qian wiped her small knife clean and cut several pieces of meat from the roasted boar. Taking out some fresh green leaves from her storage pouch, she wrapped the meat carefully before respectfully offering it to Feng Qingzhuo. “Senior Sister, please,” she said.

Feng Qingzhuo glanced at her, no longer as wary or resistant as before, and accepted the offering after washing her hands. She took a bite.

The boar meat wasn’t gamey at all—the skin was crispy, the inside juicy. Paired with the fresh leaves, the pork’s fat seeped into the greens, creating a delightful combination of crisp freshness and rich meatiness. The special sauce added a refreshing touch that balanced the richness perfectly. It was truly delicious.

Moreover, as she ate, Feng Qingzhuo faintly sensed spiritual energy entering her body. She suddenly realized this wasn’t an ordinary wild boar—it was likely a spirit beast. How extravagant! She couldn’t help but glance at Wen Qian again, thinking this person must be incredibly wealthy. After another bite, her brows relaxed, and she remarked, “Junior Sister Wen, your cooking skills are truly impressive.”

The compliment made Wen Qian’s eyes curve with a shy smile.

“Please help yourself, Senior Sister. If you like it, do eat more. I have plenty of this meat. I can never repay your life-saving grace—this is just a simple meal…”

She added proudly, “My life, Wen Qian’s life, is worth far more than this meal!”

“And if it’s not enough…” Wen Qian glanced at the dragon cub perched on Feng Qingzhuo’s shoulder and blinked. “I can have them bring over a few more.”

“Senior Sister, rest assured—with me, there’s always enough meat!” Wen Qian laughed, patting her chest confidently.

“But…” She tentatively studied Feng Qingzhuo’s expression, ensuring no displeasure, before cautiously asking, “Would Senior Sister like some wine?”

“After all, fine wine with roasted meat—what could be better? Truly one of life’s greatest pleasures.” Wen Qian sighed. Her education wasn’t extensive—she wasn’t fond of poetry or literature—but this was one of the few refined phrases she knew, taught by her mother to sound more cultured in conversation.

As for other skills… Wen Qian excelled mainly in food, drink, and entertainment. As the eldest daughter of the Northern Xiang Prime Minister, she wasn’t exactly a master of the arts, but she was proficient in archery, horseback riding, and martial weapons. It couldn’t be helped—these were her passions. In life, one ought to pursue what interests them.

Wen Qian was quite talkative. Sensing the atmosphere had eased and Feng Qingzhuo was gradually relaxing, she began chatting with her intentionally or unintentionally. Her knowledge was extensive, and her thoughts jumped around—she could always connect one thing to another as if she had endless things to say. Feng Qingzhuo, in turn, became her free listener.

As a good listener, chiming in occasionally was important. But Wen Qian was different—she didn’t like asking others questions and simply kept talking. This suited Feng Qingzhuo just fine. People like Wen Qian, who could regulate their own emotions and barely needed feedback, were rare—almost like finding a phoenix feather or a qilin horn!

Feng Qingzhuo barely ate a few bites herself before asking Wen Qian for a small knife to slice the meat. She then carefully began cutting, focusing on the well-roasted outer layer, where the fat and lean were perfectly balanced. Each slice sizzled with oil, the rich fat dripping down as the flames beneath the bonfire flared up—it looked absolutely delicious.

Feng Qingzhuo interrupted Wen Qian’s chatter to ask, “Junior Sister Wen, do you mind if I feed my spirit beast?”

To outsiders, Chris was Feng Qingzhuo’s pet—a mutated black lizard with wings on its back, deep red eyes, and formidable Foundation Establishment-level strength. The pure black creature had been lying beside Feng Qingzhuo, affectionate with her but indifferent to others, always looking listless.

“Of course not,” Wen Qian quickly shook her head. “Senior Sister, feel free.” Then, she pulled out a jar of wine from her storage pouch and asked, “Would you like some?”

Feng Qingzhuo wrapped the roasted meat and handed it to Chris, who had been drooling with anticipation—literally, tears were dripping from the corners of her mouth. When Feng Qingzhuo brought the wrapped meat, along with crisp leafy greens, to Chris’s mouth, the dragon hatchling eagerly opened wide and gobbled it up. She even stuck out her tongue and licked Feng Qingzhuo’s slender, pale fingers.

Feng Qingzhuo: “…”

She stared down at her fingers, momentarily stunned, her brain short-circuiting as a single phrase flashed repeatedly in her mind:

[She licked me, she licked me, she licked me, she licked me…]

[My dragon… licked my fingers?]

[Chris… just now… did she… lick my fingers?!?!]

Feng Qingzhuo felt like her reaction might be a bit delayed—or perhaps her sensitivity was just too low. It took her at least half a minute before she felt as if she’d been electrocuted, her fingers tingling with a sensation so intense it made her scalp prickle.

This was really something.

Seeing A-Zhuo sitting stiffly, her back ramrod straight, Chris tilted her head in confusion. She moved closer, her deep red dragon eyes locking onto Feng Qingzhuo’s.

The two stared at each other for a while, but Chris still didn’t understand. She patted Feng Qingzhuo’s shoulder with her claw, leaving a big question mark in the air.

Fortunately, Wen Qian opened the wine jar, giving it a gentle shake, and the rich aroma of fine liquor instantly filled the air. She then pulled out two wine cups from her storage pouch and smoothly handed one to Feng Qingzhuo.

Feng Qingzhuo was momentarily stunned, instinctively accepting the wine cup as if her action alone conveyed her thoughts.

Before Feng Qingzhuo could respond, the dragon cub grabbed her sleeve. Dragons have an innate fondness for alcohol, and the newborn little dragon, catching a whiff of the wine, couldn’t contain its excitement. Its vertical pupils dilated, eyes fixated unwaveringly on the wine jar. Even the well-traveled dragon spirit, upon smelling the aroma, couldn’t help but remark, “Fine wine indeed.”

“It’s premium Zhuyeqing.”

For seasoned drinkers, Zhuyeqing isn’t particularly strong, but for those unaccustomed to alcohol, it poses a bit of a challenge. Moreover, while Zhuyeqing leans toward sweetness and contains medicinal herbs, the blend of herbal notes with the unique fragrance of bamboo leaves made both the human and the dragon take a second look.

Wen Qian first poured a cup for Feng Qingzhuo, then filled her own. The Zhuyeqing liquor, tinged with a yellow-green hue, was crystal clear in the cup, resembling an exquisite high-end beverage.

Feng Qingzhuo raised the cup to her nose, inhaling the refreshing blend of bamboo and herbs that instantly dispelled her fatigue. Closing her eyes, she savored the sensation, feeling something almost magical.

But then… for some reason, she heard the sound of something lapping at liquid. When she opened her eyes, the cup was nearly empty.

Feng Qingzhuo froze for a moment before realization dawned. She turned her head to see a furtive dragon cub guiltily covering its eyes—was this an attempt at deception?

Feng Qingzhuo pinched Chris’s tail, her eyes brimming with amusement. Chris, seeing stars, felt as though Feng Qingzhuo had multiplied before her, like some ethereal fairy. For some reason, she seemed to hear, “Got you, you little glutton.”

“Mmm…” Chris mumbled in response, oblivious to anything amiss. The words didn’t sound like something Feng Qingzhuo would say. Her cheeks flushed and burned, the world spinning around her as she pointed a claw at Feng Qingzhuo and slurred, “You’re… A-Zhuo…”

“Hehe, A-Zhuo…”

Hiccup The dragon cub let out a burp. “A-Zhuo, oh A-Zhuo, what am I going to do with you?”

Chris clung to Feng Qingzhuo’s outstretched hand, cooing, “Won’t you act cute for me again? Please?”

“Pleaaase~~” Chris swayed Feng Qingzhuo’s fingers, as if to say, “If you don’t, I’ll just keep holding your hand like this.”

Feng Qingzhuo: ?

Feng Qingzhuo asked with growing concern, “Chris, Chris, what’s wrong with you?”

The dragon spirit covered its eyes, unable to bear the sight. Every glance was a blow to dragon dignity. Dragons are known for their love of alcohol—what kind of dragon gets drunk so easily and behaves so poorly?! This was utterly disgraceful to Dragon Valley, nay, to the entire dragon race!

In short, two words summed it up: utterly shameful!