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"Hey! You little brat, be reasonable! I brought that food. I saw you were starving, so I gave you half, and now you're trying to take all of it? You even have the nerve to say it was yours all along?"

"Xiaojiu made that food. I need only ask him to know. What Xiaojiu makes belongs to me. Anyone who dares challenge me—" He tipped his head back arrogantly. "I'll make sure he dies horribly."

"...X-Xiaojiu?" How did this little beggar know Xiaojiu?

"Who gave you the right to call him Xiaojiu? Call him Eldest Young Master Zhu!"

"..." Call her own little brother Eldest Young Master Zhu? More like Eldest Young Master Pig!

Wait, wait... Something about that tone was familiar. It reminded her of someone—ah, the Young Master! His favorite thing to say to His Majesty was, "Who gave you the right to call her Little Eight?" As his sister, she found that tone deeply troubling. What was this wretched little beggar planning to do to the Zhu Household's only hope of carrying on the family line?

"Little Eight, what are you doing here?"

Speak of the devil. Zhu Xiaojiu approached the two facing off, a large food box in his hand. He blinked and looked first at his sister, who held her food box in one hand while fending off an abacus with the other, her face full of injured outrage. Then he looked at the cold-faced boy, who held the abacus in one hand and had already dragged Xiaojiu aside to shield him with the other.

"Xiaojiu, come here. This person is acting suspiciously. He stole your food box and your food, and his greed knows no bounds. Stay away from him."

"Listen to you, accusing me first! Xiaojiu made my food box for me himself.