Zhao Rong was led back to his seat by Zhao Lingfei in a daze.
He was somewhat at a loss for a moment.
Sitting on a kneeling mat that Zhao Lingfei had carefully wiped clean, Zhao Rong gradually recovered his wits.
His eyes fixed directly on Qing Jun beside him, he licked his dry lips.
Zhao Rong's right hand could still feel the cold touch of her jade hand—yet her hand, drenched in cold sweat, clasped his tightly, as if afraid he would walk away with another woman...
So, did I misunderstand her intentions just now... She wasn't signaling me to leave with a serving of tea?
But what about Qing Jun's current reaction? Like a startled little deer, she was panicked and confused. Had she also misunderstood something...
