With a sudden lunge into empty space, under the influence of gravity, Yang Xiang stumbled. Unable to maintain her balance, she toppled to the side.
"Bang--"
In the heat of the moment, Yang Xiang grabbed the handrail of the stairs. She ended up half-kneeling on the ground. She was unharmed, but the tall floor vase next to her suffered the brunt of the impact.
The human-height vase heavily smashed onto the ground, shattering into pieces with a loud crash.
The flowers inside the vase were scattered messily on the floor. The water changed in the morning splashed everywhere, wetting Jian Qing's shoes.
"Xiangxiang." Yang Lin quickly ran over and helped her up, "Are you hurt?"
Yang Xiang was a bit taken aback, she shook her head and said, "I'm fine."
Jian Qing glanced at her coldly and then continued up the stairs, ignoring Yang Xiang and her group.
The wet sensation in her socks was very unpleasant, unbearable for a person with a mild obsession for cleanliness like her.
