Feng Yun was momentarily dazed.
She turned around, walked towards him with composed eyes and brows and a light step, as soft as a pool of autumn water in the dim night.
Their gazes met.
Feng Yun greeted him with a strained smile.
"What guidance does Qi Jun have?"
Xiao Cheng's eyes brightened; the long-silent chamber of his chest seemed to be swept by a feather, then struck by a loud drum.
He glanced at Ping'an and Jixiang beside him.
Several servants silently retreated.
Feng Yun watched them provocatively, not moving an inch.
She did not dismiss the servants.
There was no need.
If someone voluntarily presents their face for a slap, the more who witness it, the better, isn't it?
Xiao Cheng glanced at the people behind her, his mouth tense momentarily, and asked softly:
"Were you also invited by the Princely Heir to come to the night feast?"
Feng Yun looked at him, neither humble nor haughty.
"Uninvited."
Xiao Cheng: "Why did you leave?"
