"Master! Are you stupid or what!"
The little girl widened her eyes, looking at her master in disbelief.
"Do you really think Qing Jun ate you! You dumb master! In a dream, even if Qing Jun ate you, you'd still be hungry when you wake up, right? Just like when Qing Jun eats chicken drumsticks in a dream! It's all fake! It's just the self in the dream that doesn't know it's fake."
To be fair, what this little girl said was quite reasonable.
So it turned out this little girl wasn't the idiot at all; he, the master, was the idiot?
For a moment, the master was left speechless.
Qing Jun's voice suddenly grew much smaller; she buried her little face against her master's chest and said softly:
"It's just… once Qing Jun saw Master, I didn't want to die anymore. Otherwise, if this old Daoist lost his little dumpling to cuddle, he'd definitely be so lonely."
Hearing these soft, sticky words from the little disciple in his arms,
