Chunyu Yan had been sitting in the tea room for a short while when Jiang Yin entered awkardly and uneasily. She stood before him, performing a deep bow.
"The lady said that the Princely Heir wished to speak with this one," Jiang Yin said.
Her delicate white face and soft, rosy lips held a feminine grace, yet there was a hint of fragile tenderness in her beauty.
Chunyu Yan lowered his gaze to drink a sip of tea and found it unbearably spicy.
It was like swallowing a firecracker, with a rage he couldn't vent, not towards the person before him, but at Feng Twelve.
The sunlight fell on the lattice windows, making the tea room somewhat cold.
Their eyes met, and Jiang Yin quickly lowered her head, obviously terrified.
Chunyu Yan said, "Has Xiang Zhong been to see you, asking you to be with me?"
Jiang Yin's cheeks flushed with a rosy hue, showing a trace of embarrassment and shyness. She fidgeted with her handkerchief, nodding as she looked down.
