The self-isolator...
Fu Qian's actions had undoubtedly caught Wen Li's attention.
She naturally remembered this uniquely shaped prop, which bestowed a sense of prison-like beauty on its wearer.
But after only a brief moment of surprise, her attention was drawn to something else.
"Mr. Fu, your hand..."
Wen Li looked up sharply, her gaze fixed on Fu Qian's left arm.
Very relaxed. Just as expected of a dream state.
Fu Qian assessed Wen Li, who looked uncertain and alarmed.
Perhaps because Wen Li was the owner of this dream, the instant he appeared, he realized he was wearing a trench coat.
It was pure black, with a dignified style and a perfect fit—several notches more refined than the outfit Miss Wen had prepared at his request.
Even so, the anomaly in his left arm was still obvious.
Wen Li had a keen eye. In a normal state, she probably would have noticed at first glance, especially since his left hand hadn't even changed into the wide-sleeved robe he'd requested.
But in this dream state, her thoughts were clearly much more relaxed.
"It's just a minor injury. Moving around is a little inconvenient for now."
Fu Qian sat down calmly and offered a casual explanation.
"I see."
Not only was her observational ability diminished, she was also much easier to convince. Wen Li gave an understanding nod, then her expression turned grave.
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
Clearly, in her mind, the fact that Mr. Fu—the Great Fortune Ming King, whose reputation shook Shangjing and the surrounding areas—had been injured and was having trouble getting around meant the situation behind it must have been unimaginably dangerous.
"No need. It's already taken care of."
Fu Qian understood her enthusiasm and politely declined. To show that everything was under