An Mingzhu unexpectedly found that Lin Chuxia's room door was not closed, which brought her joy.
"Chuxia, I've come up to chat with you," An Mingzhu pushed the door open and entered.
Lin Chuxia was making her bed and, hearing her voice, said without lifting her head, "I'm busy!"
She and An Mingzhu had already torn their faces apart and she didn't want to maintain even superficial courtesies.
Too tiring.
However, An Mingzhu acted as if she hadn't heard, approaching her with a gentle smile, "Chuxia, I'm worried about you, too. Mom just lost her temper downstairs!"
If one listened carefully, it was evident that her words carried more smugness than concern and care.
Lin Chuxia had long let go of her obsession with her family of birth, so now, hearing this didn't affect her at all.
She kept a straight face, finished making the bed, and then placed a clean pillowcase on the pillow.
