Shen Yinning caught her arm tightly at the very moment before she fell out of the window.
Luo Wanzhao's figure looked like a withered butterfly teetering dangerously mid-air.
She tilted her head back, her frail little face twisted grotesquely. "Let go of me!"
Shen Yinning clenched her teeth.
Her bedroom was on the third floor of Zhaoyue Pavilion. Although there was grass below, a fall from this height would cause injury. Outsiders who didn't know better might think it was her who pushed Luo Wanzhao, especially when so many nannies had died in her room tonight. By then, she wouldn't be able to explain herself no matter how hard she tried.
She didn't want trouble for herself.
