Most of the people in the garden were the younger generation, interacting with each other. They gathered in groups and she could occasionally hear a conversation.
"They always say that I'm a sickling and that it's not good to interact with me." The girl smiled bitterly and introduced herself. "I'm Shen Xi. I'm very happy to talk to you."
So she was Shen Xi.
"Murong Qiao." Murong Qiao said her name. At the same time, her gaze involuntarily landed on Shen Xi.
She was thin and weak. Even her beautiful and gorgeous dress on her couldn't hide the illness on her pale face. Occasionally, when she spoke, she would cough softly and then look apologetic.
After Murong Qiao carefully observed the other party, she had to admit that she was even weaker than she had heard.
"I met Madam Shen when I first came." Murong Qiao deliberated over her words. "She said that you needed to rest."
