On the other side of the courtyard, beside the stone railing, Bibi Dong sat on pins and needles.
Her face burned even hotter than Ah Yin's. The breath in her chest would neither rise nor fall, leaving her so stifled that her fingers clenched tightly around her sleeve.
She was, after all, the Pope of Spirit Hall—and Xue'er's mother.
Yet that bastard Gu Linyuan actually dared to flirt so intimately with Ah Yin right in front of her!
She was furious, so furious her teeth itched.
But more than that, she was embarrassed.
Those kneading motions, those suggestive whispers, those utterly uninhibited looks—all of it played out vividly before her eyes.
She could even see the slight indentations in the fabric where Gu Linyuan's fingertips pressed down. The sight was like a feather, neither too light nor too heavy, brushing against her heart and leaving her unable to sit still, unable to stand, not even knowing where to look.
She wanted to speak up and rebuke them, but something seemed to be lodged in her throat.
She wanted to get up and leave, but her legs seemed to have taken root.
In the end, she could only turn her head and stare fixedly at the vines on the courtyard wall, as though some peerless cultivation art had been carved into those withered leaves.
Yet the flush at the tips of her ears still betrayed her.
Deep down, she was still unwilling to accept it!
Especially after learning that Gu Linyuan's mother was the Goddess of Life, that unwillingness only grew stronger.
She refused to accept it.
Why was it that so many women far inferior to her ended up so much happier than she was?
Even Ah Yin was the same!
Why?
She already knew that it was because she