Meng Fuyao had been caught red-handed but she chose not to flee. Instead, with a leg dangling off each side of the wall, she hugged her chest, sighing "Isn't the sunshine just brilliant today?"
A few drops of ice-cold rain fell with the howling of the wind before specks of snow drifted down.
As in reveling in it, Meng Fuyao added, "Perfect temperature…"
Having eulogized the weather, Meng Fuyao took her own sweet time to get down, and walked toward Zong Yue's door matter-of-factly.
However, she stopped before his door and sniffed around. "This herb smells horrible," she commented.
When Meng Fuyao turned her head, she caught sight of Zong Yue sitting on the ground in a lotus position. His face was slightly pale, and there was an empty bowl on the table beside him, from which the smell was spreading.
Noting that Meng Fuyao had seen it, Zong Yue withdrew his gaze. With a wave of his sleeve, the window closed, almost slamming onto her nose.
