It was the same garden pavilion as last time, and Cui Wenjing was still standing by the edge, hands behind his back, gazing at the flowing water.0

The difference was that, back then, Cui Yuanyang had not even dared to enter and listen. This time, despite the cries of “Young miss, please don’t go in!” and the heavy presence of guards trying to bar her way, Cui Yuanyang simply kicked them aside with almost palpable fury and stormed into the garden, dragging Zhao Changhe behind her.0

Zhao Changhe wore a smile the entire way. He had been faintly worried that Cui Yuanyang might have been confined and left crying in frustration, but now it seemed he had underestimated his little rabbit. The pitiful girl who once sat in the rain, hugging her knees, had improved much since then.0

And rightly so. While the scions of many aristocratic families showed signs of decline, the siblings Cui Yuanyang and Cui Yuanyong, both recognized by the Qinghe Sword, were rare exceptions. Furthermore, with proper experience in the outside world under their belts, they were treasures of their lineage, pillars of their clan for the next few decades. With their father as the clan leader,...0