"Pour water?" she frowned. "The kettle is right next to you. Can't you walk two steps and pour it yourself?"
She pointed at the kettle on the table less than three meters away.
Ryan didn't move an inch. He leaned back lazily and said flatly, "It seems you still haven't fully understood your role as a servant."
There was a faint threat hidden in his tone.
Mu Xianling stiffened, then reluctantly walked over, picked up the kettle, and muttered, "Fine, fine. I'll pour it."
She handed him the water.
"I suddenly want an apple," Ryan said. "Peel one for me."
"Peel an apple?" She glared at him. "You don't have hands?"
Ryan raised an eyebrow.
"I'll do it," she said through clenched teeth.
"Now I want an orange."
"I'll peel it."
"I feel like drinking tea."
"You just drank water!"
"I'm thirsty again."
"I'll make it."
"Come over and thump my back."
"..."
"Pinch my legs."
"..."
"I forgot to bring paper to the toilet."
"Do you want me to hand it to you, too?"
"I—"
"Enough."
