The young servant girl, cherished by the eldest son and full of longing for the future, didn't yet know what she would face until Tang Xing's cold hand rested upon her own. When the little maid looked up, she saw Tang Xing's eyes, filled with reluctance, conflict, and above all, an apology.
Like a startled deer, Miao Zhu quickly withdrew her hand and took two steps back, her voice timid, "Young... Young Master, you must be cold. I'll make you some tea."
As soon as she finished speaking, she turned swiftly and busied herself at the tea table, her hands trembling as she fussed over it. Watching Miao Zhu's shivering back, Tang Xing let his hollow hand fall and slumped down at the tea table.
Rinsing the cups, awakening the tea, and brewing it—the simple steps were repeated several times. Throughout, Miao Zhu didn't dare lift her head.
