Su Liumeng accepted the still-warm dagger. A stronger, lingering trace of fragrance seemed to cling to it.
Her eyes widened even more, and the way she looked at me was like she was staring at some alien lifeform.
“You… you keep this dagger in your skirt every night when you sleep?”
“Uh.” I was briefly at a loss. “Well, not just at night…”
Su Liumeng exhaled a bit in relief—only to hear me continue, wheezing between every word,
“Actually… I carry it with me… even when I go out.”
Su Liumeng gripped the hilt tightly.
“You seriously aren’t afraid of cutting yourself?!”
“No more carrying it,” she ordered firmly.
Then, as if to emphasize her point, she tucked the dagger away.
“Confiscated.”
“Ah—!” I reached toward her dramatically in protest, my tone full of despair.
“Give me back my dagger!”
“It has a sheath! How could I cut myself?”
