The National Master set down her teaware and sank into deep thought where she knelt. Flames rose in the clay furnace, and bubbles gurgled in the kettle, wafting white steam like clouds and mist in front of the National Master. Her beautiful face seemed to be veiled by a light gauze.
Moments later, she took out a gold-etched folding fan from her sleeve, gracefully opening it to cover the lower half of her face. Only a pair of eyes as deep as a secluded pool could be seen, gazing at Master Bertram: "Is Master Bertram not afraid that I will blackmail you with this matter in the future? Since Master Bertram dares not take action personally, there must be a reason for your hesitation."
"I trust in the National Master's character."
Of course, this was merely a grand and noble pretext. When Owen Bertram considered this possibility, he proposed the cooperation with the National Master after thorough consideration from various aspects.
