Zhu Yourong's warming words and forgiveness eased the atmosphere in the hall somewhat.
However, at this time, in the view of Zhao Lingfei, Zhu Yourong, and Zhao Qian'er, the man who was always good-tempered and laughing in the face of trouble had an extremely calm expression.
His emotions were hard to read.
But it was imaginable that he wasn't doing well.
So Zhao Lingfei and Zhao Qian'er, either standing or kneeling, watched him.
One woman was dazed and stunned, the other had reddened eyes.
Zhu Yourong reached out, wanting to help little Qian'er up.
But the girl with a scholar's wife's hairstyle like the lady dared not get up, still clinging to her husband's leg, and shook her head at Zhu Yourong.
Zhao Rong's brow furrowed slightly, his gaze shifted away.
So little Qian'er immediately let go and jumped up, her face still marked with tears, looking eagerly at Brother Rong's face.
Zhao Rong turned his head, pursed his lips.
He still didn't look at her and Qing Jun.
