Queen Mother of the West's face darkened, and her dissatisfaction with Xiang Yuan instantly reached its peak. She said coldly, "Then don't say it. I don't have that much curiosity."
"Since that's the case, this disciple definitely can't say it either, lest I bring Master needless trouble and truly become a disobedient disciple." Xiang Yuan nodded in agreement. He was not wearing that hat.
Queen Mother of the West gritted her teeth at his punchable expression, wishing she could slap that pretty boy across the face.
Since she could not, she could only suppress her anger and say kindly, "Tell me your conjecture. We can discuss it together; perhaps we may gain something new."
Queen Mother of the West had contemplated for years the truths and falsehoods of the three thousand worlds and the tangled complexities of the river of time, yet had never seen through them. The moment she heard that Xiang Yuan had understood something but would not say it, she felt as though ants were crawling all over her body.
The feeling of a cat's claws scratching at one's heart was not pleasant. This moment was just like that moment back then—only the one whose heart was being clawed by the cat had changed.
"You have a point. Master has seen much and knows much. If I tell you my conjecture, you'll surely be able to analyze something new from it. But today, this disciple just wants to disgust you a little. I just want to be a riddle-speaker." Xiang Yuan's thoughts flowed freely. His great vengeance had been repaid, and every pore on his body radiated delight.
Queen Mother of the West's chest heaved violently. She closed her eyes in silence, but quickly regained her composure and said bluntly, "You are yang, and I am yin.