He Yaqin's heart skipped a beat, and she inwardly cursed, 'Damn it!'
The name Xiaxia was personally chosen by her when He Jinxia lay in her sickbed, no different from a living dead; no amount of calling could wake her, and she seemed on the brink of death. Hence, she named the servant Xiaxia, harboring the very mindset He Jinxia had mentioned.
But now, with so many people around, such thoughts couldn't be revealed at all.
He Yaqin choked on sobs and wept, not continuing her explanation, only saying, "You misunderstand me, sister, you really misunderstand me..."
Many people still favored her fragile and pitiable demeanor; immediately, a young gentleman came to her defense, exclaiming:
"It has come to this, and you've barely escaped death from a great fire. Yaqin specially hired a doctor to treat you, caring for you unceasingly. How could you be so ungrateful and doubt her intentions?"
He Jinxia glanced at the crowd and scoffed coldly, her mind set on her own ideas.
