"Seat Master, this young friend is..."
The prefect forced out an ugly smile.
Though times had changed, the sight of his former Seat Master still made his legs tremble, his mouth go dry, his breathing grow shallow, and his heart race.
The distinguished guest called "Seat Master" followed the prefect's gaze toward A Yan. A trace of warmth slid through the depths of his eyes as his rough, cracked palm gently stroked the boy's head. In a warm voice, he said, "His childhood name is 'A Yan.'"
Hearing his teacher call him, A Yan pulled his attention away from the filled pastries. He blinked and looked at his teacher blankly, seemingly asking why he had been called. The old man smiled and pointed toward the prefect, replying, "I wasn't calling you. Your senior brother was curious."
A Yan tilted his head, looking at the prefect and then the old man. Finally, he glanced at the filled pastries on the plate, his delicate brows knitting slightly.
The old man had lived with A Yan for two years and had more or less figured out how he thought. He said, "Your senior brother doesn't like these sweets, and neither do I. They're all yours, so you don't have to share."
The prefect's lips twitched inwardly at the form of address.
He had called the old man "Seat Master" only out of regard for their former ties. He had never expected the old bastard to climb up the pole and casually procure him some worthless junior brother. Speaking of this "junior brother," he vaguely felt that this child called "A Yan" was not very bright.
At the very least, he was not as quick-witted as ordinary children.
The prefect appropriately let concern show on his face.
"Seat Master, is there something wrong here