Mansion No. 3.
Reception hall.
Yu Xian ordered a serving girl to serve tea, smiling and inviting the two guests.
"Make yourselves at home."
Zhao Jia, accompanying Wenren Yue, awkwardly said he dared not, his posture showing reverence as he sat.
Zhao Jia had been the emperor's father to the Zhao family for twenty years, and he had always been a little proud.
After all, Yu Xian never asked him to do anything with the Blood Contract that bound his life, giving him ample autonomy.
Over the years, Yu Xian had left him alone, as if he had forgotten he existed.
Without constraints and accustomed to being fawned over by those below him, Zhao Jia naturally placed himself high and seemed to have regained his lost dignity.
Even the former Guest Master had little to fear in his heart.
As the saying goes, a healed wound is forgotten pain.
