She held a small bowl containing what seemed to be homemade pickles.
White radish mixed with a little chili, translucent and wonderfully refreshing.
"Big brother, these are pickles we made ourselves. Try some first. They taste really good with plain noodle soup."
Clutching the hem of her clothes, she spoke cautiously, seemingly afraid Fang Yang would turn up his nose at them. After all, he looked every inch one of those distinguished people from the stories.
People of such standing were generally extremely particular.
"Thank you."
Fang Yang nodded, a rare trace of a smile blooming on his face. He was already quite handsome, and his smile made him even more charming, turning the girl's cheeks redder still.
"N-no need to thank me."
The girl stammered, touching the little flower on her head. It was her only hair ornament and very precious to her; she normally could not bear to wear it. Yet, for some reason, after seeing this big brother today, she had suddenly put it on.
"Big brother, you're so handsome. You're the best-looking person I've ever seen. And big sister is beautiful too. You two really are a perfect match."
As she picked up her tray to leave, the girl still summoned the courage to say what was on her mind.
Fang Yang smiled faintly, without his usual cold ruthlessness. As for Ye Qinghong, there was hardly any need to mention him: the moment the girl finished speaking, his eyes shone brilliantly, as though a star were burning within them.
But his temperament was naturally rather cool and reserved. He rarely showed his feelings, much less readily expressed the joy in his heart.
Thus, feigning nonchalance, he merely squeezed the sword in his hand lightly. Then, as though something had occurred to him, he shook his sleeve,