"Huaiying!" A middle aged man immediately cried out. "Mind your manners!"
The girl tossed her head angrily and turned away.
Feng Zhiwei slowly set down her tea.
She showed no anger, her face intensely blank and calm. The Yan Family felt the tent fall cold and grave, and the somewhat generous confines of the tent suddenly seemed crowded as they shifted anxiously.
Feng Zhiwei stared silently at them, and all of them grew uncomfortable and confused.
Finally, Feng Zhiwei commented emotionlessly: "The tea is cold."
What was she saying?" The uncomfortable Yan Family people glanced at each other as Yan Huaishi headed for the entrance, saying: "There are not even attendants here, I will make a new pot."
