Mei Garden, Sun Mansion.
Wang Xifeng sat in a pavilion open to the wind on all sides, yet it felt as though a lump of burning charcoal had been wrapped around her heart, scorching her into restless agitation and leaving her mouth dry.
Naturally, she had no mood for conversation.
Fortunately, Jia Yingchun, seated opposite her, was dull and taciturn by nature. Though she was the hostess, she showed no inclination to make small talk.
Thus, the two sat silently facing one another in the pavilion. After who knew how long, they finally heard a heavy set of footsteps drawing nearer.
The sisters-in-law turned to look at the same time and saw Sun Shaozong striding toward them with his head held high. Against the sharp force radiating from him, the red plum blossoms filling the garden seemed to take on an added air of grim severity.
A few years ago, when Wang Xifeng saw such a burly warrior, she would most likely have sneered, "A crude lout, a reckless brute," and kept her distance.
Not to mention the perfumed young men of Rongguo Mansion—even Wang Ziteng, Governor-General of the Southeast, was a refined scholarly commander.
Having been influenced by such things since childhood, her tastes had inevitably been shaped in that direction. She naturally had little fondness for hulking men of this sort.
Yet ever since Jia Lian had stopped taking an interest in women, the scales in her heart had gradually shifted, and her disgust for those powdered young men had only deepened.
Now, seeing Sun Shaozong arrive in such high spirits, standing in stark contrast to those affected fops caked in rouge and powder, her heartstrings stirred. Memories she had struggled to bury rose once more to the surface.
She was not some foolish woman who blindly followed