It's not easy being a Master

21

“Hot, thinly sliced beef and a flask of wine, coming!”

“One plate of meat-stuffed steam buns! One plate of sweet cake! Coming up, one bowl of beef noodle soup!!　　

“Little brother, may I trouble you with one bowl of plum blossom soup…?”

All kinds of voices interlaced. It was a frigid winter morning and the wind blew cold and chilly. When people talk, the cold coagulated their warm breaths into white mists, so thick that it practically blurred out each person's face.

A five to six-year-old boy was curled up on a street corner. He was wearing a thin, ragged shirt, a pair of dirty shoes so worn out that, when stepping on the snow, they did not warm his feet at all.

The trouser were already too small for the body, exposing half of his lower legs, which were frozen red by the cold. The little boy didn’t seem to care. He merely opened his eyes to peek around. 　

His face was filthy, and only his pair of penetratingly dark eyes were clear and bright.

A middle-aged man bought three big steamed buns and a bowl of noodle soup. After a while, he could not eat anymore and left behind half a steam bun and a bite of soup. 　　

The little boy stared as if he’d found a treasure. When the middle-aged man left, he quickly rushed out of the corner. One hand skillfully grabbed the steamed bun while the other took hold of the bowl and brought it up to his mouth. 　　

His actions were very quick but others still saw and were disgusted by him. Just as his mouth touched the cold bowl, but before he could even drink down the contents, a severe slap fell down, overturning the bowl. 　

The soup spilled on him, and the chilly wind immediately plastered the cold, wet shirt against his body.

“Where did this filthy thing come from?! Get away!”

The strong, muscular man scolded him with a grin, and the malice and disgust in his voice took substance, piercing the boy like a knife.

The boy clutched the remaining half of the steamed bun in silence. He squeezed his little hands into fists and turned away silently.

The brawny man blinked, saw the steamed bun, and angrily rebuked, “Dirty thing, what do you have in your hand?! A big steamed bun costs a copper. You dare get it for nothing?”

There was obviously only a tiny piece left.

The boy pumped his legs, intent on escaping. But, when the man saw that he was running away, he immediately took big strides to catch up and pulled on the boy’s collar. He’d been having some troubles lately, and he’d long wanted to bully someone to let out steam.

The boy was already emaciated, and his body was frozen stiff. Within two steps, he was caught and fell to the ground. 　　

When that dark and ferocious hand was about to drag the boy back by his collar, a fair hand stretched out gracefully, fingers wrapping around the man’s thick wrist. 　　

The slender fingers that easily gripped the man’s wrist looked weak but the man felt as if his wrist was being pinched by iron tongs. He could not move at all. 　

As the most difficult man to deal with on this street, the man had never been offended so boldly before. 　　

He flushed with anger and turned his head to see which daring and ignorant child had dared pluck a hair from the tiger’s head. As a result, when he turned his head, he caught sight of a noble-looking young man dressed in a long, white robe. The young man smiled and casually flung the man’s wrist away from the boy.