Seeing Sheng Hong and Lady Wang emerge from behind the screen, Wang Yan, who had been sitting quietly for some time, rose and bowed.
"This nephew, Wang Yan, pays his respects to Uncle and Aunt."
Shamelessness was a basic quality for officials, but Sheng Hong had never seen anyone so brazen. With such vast differences in status and power—and after having offended them first—Wang Yan still remained perfectly composed. Rather than addressing him as an official, he shamelessly called him Uncle, forcibly drawing their relationship closer.
Though speechless, Sheng Hong still acknowledged Wang Yan's boldness in being so shameless. After all, quite a few scholars could not even speak properly in front of him, a magistrate vice-prefect. Wang Yan had dared to flirt with his daughter in the street, dared to send a calling card and visit his home, and now, face-to-face with him, showed not the slightest fear. Ordinary people truly did not possess such temperament.
Together with Lady Wang, Sheng Hong looked Wang Yan over from head to toe before waving a hand. "Sit and speak."
With that, he and Lady Wang took their seats on either side of the seats of honor, while Wang Yan returned to the lower seat.
"You dared to flirt with the legitimate daughter of my Sheng family in the street. Wang Yan, you have quite the nerve."
"Not so, not so. Uncle is mistaken. This nephew was not flirting; it was love at first sight, admiration too deep to relinquish. I imagine Uncle already understood what this nephew said that day—it all came from the bottom of my heart. My parents passed away early, leaving no one to arrange my marriage. Nor was I willing to marry some vulgar, ordinary woman, so I could only take matters into my own hands."