Nalan Yanran's Less-Than-Happy Childhood

Nalan Jie's bewilderment did not last long.

Of course.

Nalan Yanran also saw the truth clearly.

Her grandfather had not been harmed by Xiao Yan.

Looking at the edge of the sword in her hand, then at her grandfather's eyes brimming with fury and Xiao Yan's calm, still gaze, a sense of shame quietly welled up in her heart.

"Outrageous!"

"I thought you were merely willful, child!"

"Since when could you no longer tell right from wrong?"

Nalan Jie slapped the bedside, directly sinking half the agarwood bed beneath his palm. It was clear that he was truly enraged.

He raised an arm and pointed at Nalan Yanran's face.

He was just short of slapping her.

Even his fingers trembled with anger.

Pointing at Nalan Yanran from afar, he was too furious to speak.

He could only slap the chair in frustration and roar hoarsely, "Why aren't you kneeling and apologizing to Mister Yan Xiao at once?"

If Yan Xiao had treated him to death, then Nalan Yanran drawing her sword would have been understandable. After all, she would have been suffering the pain of losing a loved one. In a fit of rage, drawing her sword to kill Yan Xiao was at least explainable—something the world could accept.

But Yan Xiao had not harmed him during the treatment.

He had even eradicated the Branding Poison from his body.

Now, he merely needed to rest for several months before recovering his strength.

Of course.

That did not mean Yan Xiao had failed to cure him.

The Branding Poison had lingered in his body for some time and had already caused a certain degree of damage. Illness came like a landslide but left like drawing silk from a cocoon. Restoring his depleted body would naturally take time.

As for saying that,