Jiang Ze sat beside the mirror and pulled open his collar, discovering a large red patch over his collarbone that looked like a bite mark.
Were there really mosquitoes that big in this room?
"Cyril."
Jiang Ze held his collar open with one hand and pointed at the swollen red patch with the other, frowning slightly.
"It's time to do something about the mosquitoes."
The Steward lowered his eyes. One black-gloved hand reached into the cabinet and took out a small jar with practiced ease.
"Young master, summer is here, so there are more mosquitoes around. Allow me to apply some ointment."
Jiang Ze pursed his lips and undid a button at his collar.
"Why did the mosquito only bite me here? I don't have a single bump anywhere else, just here, and it doesn't even itch."
Jiang Ze watched him maintain his impassive expression, apparently having no intention of commenting on the matter.
The glove was slowly removed, and he even wiped his hand with a handkerchief before opening the ointment and gently spreading some on his fingers.
The cool ointment touched Jiang Ze's collarbone, making him shiver involuntarily. They were so close together. Although Meng Zhiyuan had yet to recover his memories, Jiang Ze's were intact.
He couldn't help recalling every little moment they had shared.
"What's wrong, young master?"
Realizing that he had gotten carried away, Jiang Ze hurriedly released the Steward's wrist, his wide eyes full of hurt.
Stupid Meng Zhiyuan! Why hadn't he recovered his memories yet?
"N-nothing!"
The more Jiang Ze thought about it, the angrier he grew, until even the look he gave the man before him turned irritated.
"Stop putting that on! I'm going out!"
The Steward slowly put his glove back on, his tone as cold as ever.
"Young master, your