"Young Master, Young Master..." Santai hobbled after Di Rong, his face a mask of misery. "Are we... are we really going back to get more people?"
"Get more people for what? Isn't it bad enough that I've been utterly humiliated!" Di Rong spun around and kicked him again.
Santai clutched his kicked rear with one hand and held a roast goose with the other, a foolish grin on his face.
"As long as we're not getting anyone, it's fine. It's fine. Young Master, we can't cause any more trouble..."
The sight of Santai's idiotic expression just made Di Rong angrier. All because Santai had saved him from drowning in a river when they were children, his grandmother had made the boy his personal attendant.
But the boy had no brains and no guts, only knowing how to say, "Young Master, you can't do this," or "Young Master, that's not allowed."
If Di Rong hadn't cherished the bond they'd formed growing up together, he would have sold him off long ago.
