He watched Zhou Mu struggle to sit up and gave a scornful laugh, his eyes filled with undisguised malice and contempt.
“Well, well, the big shot of Feisha Post has finally woken up?” Zhao Si walked over to the stable railing and deliberately shook the half-bucket of bean feed in his hand, making it rattle loudly. It was plainly mixed with plenty of sand and shriveled grain. “Enjoy delivering that message last time? You were lying in the wilderness with your wine gourd, nearly getting carried off by wolves. Your brothers even had to go looking for you! How come you didn't freeze to death, you useless piece of trash?”
Before he had even finished speaking, he kicked the wooden bucket hard.
“Crash!”
The bucket tipped over, spilling its sandy bean feed across the ground, where it mixed with the already filthy fodder, mud, and manure.
Zhou Mu said nothing. He merely raised his head slowly and looked at Zhao Si.
