"Coward."
In the master bedroom of Thorn Heart Garden, Qing Lan had just finished bathing and was happily making the bed. At those words, she froze, then turned to see Mi Die leaning against the doorway with a smile that was not quite a smile and mockery that was not quite mockery. Her face flushed red as she stammered:
"Coward? What coward? I'm not being cowardly! This isn't cowardice. I'm just assessing the situation, doing what must be done, going with the flow..."
Being a Chief Editor hadn't been for nothing. Qing Lan's literary foundation had visibly improved.
"You're a coward." Mi Die said, "It was something that could have been explained in one sentence, yet you insisted on hiding, hemming, and hawing. If I hadn't pushed you, you'd still be standing in the rain, moving yourself to tears."
Qing Lan refused to accept that. "What do you know—"
Mi Die said disdainfully, "I'm married and have children. I pursued my husband myself. Do you think I don't understand? How could I not know what's going on in that little mind of yours?"
Qing Lan lowered her head sheepishly. Even though she had grown up amid intrigue in a place like Fragrant Snow Sea, she was ultimately only a girl in the springtime of her youth. How could she possibly outdo Mi Die in an argument, when Mi Die had truly struggled through the filthy world for decades?
"I think I've already done my best..."
Mi Die, who rarely spoke much, suddenly unleashed her full firepower tonight—or rather, her maternal instincts only blossomed for certain people. "You call that doing your best? Saying to him, 'I still want to sleep with you every night, Young Master'? Hah. That's hilarious."
"Then what else could I do?" Qing Lan couldn't help retorting.