Rong Ling strangely glanced at Feng Qing and saw that her complexion was not good. She instinctively raised her hand to touch Feng Qing's forehead.
Rong Ling thought Feng Qing was unwell, which was why her complexion looked bad, but she didn't know Feng Qing was sympathetic to these women in the backyard, feeling they were both sad and pitiable, hence her complexion was poor.
"Why does your complexion look so bad? Are you sick?"
Feng Qing's mouth twitched, instinctively wanting to shake off Rong Ling's hand. Talking was fine, but what was the point of touching?
Although she was annoyed in her heart, her face didn't show it. If she dared to shake off Rong Ling's hand, what awaited her next would be thirty boards.
Feng Qing suddenly felt that this life was too exhausting, wondering when it would end. It seemed the Prince Yong Mansion couldn't be stayed in for long; she'd better find a thorough way to leave.
