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Clap, clap, clap. A burst of crisp applause broke the stillness, coming from the moon gate that led to the Practice Ground.
The three people talking turned toward the sound.
Two people stood beneath the moon gate.
In front was none other than Chen Surong, the head of Zhejiang Studio.
Today, she wore moon-white robes of fine fabric but simple cut, her hair loosely pinned up with a jade hairpin. In the morning light, a gentle, tranquil smile graced her face.
Half a step behind her stood a woman quietly attending her, around thirty years old and dressed in a plain cotton skirt.
Her features were delicate, but a lingering stillness hung between her brows. With her eyes lowered, she seemed to have shut herself away from the sounds around her.
A flicker of surprise crossed Chen Xiaojun's eyes. He bowed slightly. "Aunt? What brings you here? Haven't they already started their morning training?"
As he spoke, his gaze passed quite naturally over the woman. She remained meekly downcast, offering no further reaction.
Chen Surong approached at an unhurried pace, studying Chen Xiaojun's sharply defined young face for a moment. "That glare you gave me just now had quite some force behind it, all glittering with cold menace."
"I thought it over and over, wondering whether I'd somehow offended our Young Master Xiaojun. So here I am, hurrying over to beg forgiveness."
Chen Xiaojun's face turned awkward.
When Tang Yuchen had suddenly mentioned Commanding Spirits earlier, his heart had indeed jolted, and he had instinctively glanced in Chen Surong's direction.
He had never expected that single glance to be noticed.
Seeing Chen Xiaojun's embarrassment, Chen Surong could not help laughing. "Besides, you've been whispering away here for so long."
She tipped her chin