That voice!?
Chen Yi had no time to think. He immediately lifted the curtain at his side and looked outside.
Under the dim daylight, rain poured down like a curtain.
A carriage approached from the front at an angle.
The horse was a southern pony, docile and slow-footed.
The carriage compartment behind it was made of ordinary reddish-brown wood, without the slightest ornamentation. No family crest could be seen on it, nor could its origins be discerned.
Compared with the Marquis's mansion canopy Chen Yi was riding in, it was as different as heaven and earth.
As the two carriages passed each other—one small and plain, the other large and luxurious—Chen Yi's gaze met that of a person inside the other carriage.
How should that person's appearance be described?
Curly brown hair, thick brows, a pear-shaped face, a hooked nose, and a pair of gray eyes.
He was clearly a foreigner—a man from the Poshushuo Kingdom.
Yet he was not wearing the gaudy, riotously colored clothes typical of the Poshushuo Kingdom. Instead, he wore the short attire of a Wei Dynasty martial wanderer.
At that moment, neither of them showed any change. Their gazes remained unchanged, and so did their expressions.
The difference was that Chen Yi wore a gentle smile, as though he had merely happened to lift the curtain to enjoy the rainy scenery.
The man opposite him was expressionless, his eyes indifferent, as though nothing in the world concerned him.
Even upon seeing Chen Yi, he seemed to regard him as a person who could just as easily not exist.
Only after the carriages had passed did a low voice drift over faintly. "Heh, the Xiao Family..."
Chen Yi calmly withdrew his gaze and lowered the curtain at his side. Heh, so it was him.
Chen Yi