"Let's hope Master succeeds."
Shang Qingzheng nodded repeatedly, her heart filled with anticipation as well.
Jiang Yang glanced around, but saw no sign of that mischievous little figure, so he asked:
"Where's Little Sixteen? Why hasn't it come?"
"Oh, it? I left it alone on the peak, facing the wall to reflect on its misdeeds."
The mention of Little Civet, Chi Yu, made Shang Qingzheng's temper flare.
Amused, Jiang Yang could not help asking:
"What happened? What's it done to annoy you this time?"
"Hmph, that little thing's grown greedy and lazy. All it does all day is wander around or curl up on a beam and sleep. It never does a lick of proper work."
Shang Qingzheng gave a soft huff, thoroughly displeased with it.
Jiang Yang did not know whether to laugh or cry. He said:
"What counts as proper work? Do you expect it to guard a granary and catch mice?"
Shang Qingzheng set down her teacup with a tap and chided:
"It just won't behave. And that Pill of yours worked far too well. Had I known, I wouldn't have given it the pill right away. Now it's established its immortal foundation so early that I can't even catch it."
As both its keeper and its companion, she naturally had to take responsibility for it, so she often urged it to advance its cultivation.
But a cat was a cat, born with little patience. Usually, after no more than two or three days, it grew restless, as though nails had sprouted beneath its rump.
Whenever it was determined to run off, it activated its immortal foundation and shrouded itself in fortune and virtue. The moment Shang Qingzheng thought of catching it, countless matters on the peak would spring up to delay her, leaving her no time