Wave after wave of blows made Ye Zhenxiong stagger, nearly collapsing to the ground. "Someone come quick, help the young miss back to her room!"
If they lingered any longer, not only would he be unable to save his daughter, but his dignity as well would no longer hold, and the fall would be mortifying. He had truly never expected that his little princess, whom he had cradled in his palms, would be considered less than Ye Nuanxi, who he had cast out of their family home!
His daughter was indeed as extraordinary as her mother; even without the protection of the Ye family or her brother, she was still the center of attention. Even a man like Huo Beichen, who was among the finest, cast admiring glances her way. Gazing over at Ye Nuanxi sitting beside Huo Beichen, Ye Zhenxiong's mind involuntarily conjured an image strikingly similar to hers—the face of the woman he hadn't thought of since her death, his wife, Shen Peijun, that proudly disdainful noblewoman!