Consort Xue tightly clenched the handkerchief in her hand at her side, but ignored the Eighth Prince's seemingly proper yet decidedly improper tone. With dignified composure, she said, "I am simply too anxious about my niece's health. Lord Shen should understand that."
"Alas, there are some things I can only say once I see Lord Shen. If you have a moment to spare, please let me know. I will be waiting outside."
Her meaning was blunt and unmistakable. Consort Xue was making it perfectly clear to everyone that she would not leave until she saw him.
The Eighth Prince, by contrast, merely exchanged a few casual words with Shen Yangge through the closed door before leaving.
Shen Yangge was frazzled. He rubbed his head, lifted a cup of tea, and took a sip. As the bitter taste spread through his mouth, he gathered his wits. Suddenly, he heard tapping at the window. He turned to glance over, and his gaze met that of the Eighth Prince, who was about to climb in through it.
His scalp prickled, and he opened his mouth to speak.
The Eighth Prince's eyes widened as though he had seen a ghost. His legs split apart as he fell from the windowsill, and the sound of tearing fabric and a stifled groan rang out in the room.
That pose and that utterly agonized expression told Shen Yangge one thing: the fellow had definitely strained his balls.
That had to hurt!
It hurt just to watch, let alone actually experience it.
He slowly stood, walked over to the window, and crouched in front of the Eighth Prince. "Are you all right?"
The Eighth Prince forced a smile of gut-wrenching misery. "Do I look all right to you?"
Perhaps the pain was simply too intense, for much of