"I understand," Zheng Nianru did not let Housekeeper He continue. The inevitable outcome would always arrive, and if her father's illness last lifetime was anything like it is now, perhaps she even reduced the time she infuriated him.
Ju Nanyi's hand, which held the carving tool, paused momentarily. What was wrong with Prince Duan? In the next instant, he had vaguely guessed some possibilities.
The Prince Duan he had encountered was different from the one in the rumors. He had been puzzled before, but now it seemed his suspicions were not unfounded.
"This piece is good," Zheng Nianru's voice was gentle, occasionally drifting from behind Ju Nanyi, as if tearing through the misaligned fabric of time and space. She was also behind him, during leisurely times in her boudoir, appraising the work of the Embroidery Girl.
