Mao An’an mustered up the courage to ask the busy Mir, “Um, Your Highness Mir, could you please not lick my arm? The barbs on your tongue are quite painful…” Mir: … The second attempt was much better than the first. Mao An’an seized the moment to tell Drew that the meat could be stir-fried, stewed, fried, or steamed, and to add some plant leaves without a strange smell and softer roots. Mir chimed in, saying it was Drew’s duty to ensure ‘it’ was fed, and even the most challenging task wouldn’t stump the best butler of the Austin family. Drew, once again, ran off crying.
Mao An’an asked Mir, “Are we being too harsh, bullying an old man?” Prince Mir replied nonchalantly, “Compared to me, who is about to celebrate my hundredth birthday and still hasn’t evolved into an adult form with noble blood, Drew, who is only ninety and looks so old, is truly pitiful.” Mao An’an: … No wonder that bastard Learbun always says I’m lower than commoners; it’s because of the aging rate… On this planet full of the upper food chain, Mao An’an successfully found a protector (His Highness Mir) and clung to him to feed herself. She also chatted with Butler Drew to pass the time, although it nearly drove the old man to a heart attack, but life was still quite comfortable. However, the good days didn’t last long as war broke out again.
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