"This…" Feng Shen muttered, scratching his cheek awkwardly as he avoided his personal servant's concerned gaze.
He looked off to the side, searching for some excuse that might deflect her attention.
The last thing Feng Shen wanted was to deal with his personal servant fussing over him.
He let out a small, almost sheepish laugh:
"Well, you know how it is... things got a little messy, that's all." Feng Shen's tone was casual, almost dismissive, as if brushing off the obvious evidence of what he'd endured.
"But—" Yùn Yì hesitated, wanting to press further, but she quickly reminded herself that it wasn't her place to question him.
As long as the Second Young Master was unharmed—or at least claimed to be—she would let it go.
However, she couldn't ignore the smell…
Gore, sweat, and something indescribably foul clung to the Second Young Master's form:
