Freshly bathed, Heroine Yue strode into the hall and naturally took a seat next to Zhao Changhe.
There were no sweet-smelling powders or modern shampoos and soaps, yet the natural fragrance emanating from her could stir the heart. Her spirited posture, long straight legs, and beautiful visage were dazzling whenever she appeared, instinctively drawing the gaze of all males, even prompting many old monks to mutter Buddhist prayers under their breath.
Yet Zhao Changhe always felt, disgracefully, that Sister Yue, even with bloodstains all over her and soot on her face, retained the most beautiful look in her sharp and piercing gaze.
"Please, continue," Yue Hongling smiled, "Listening to your discussion on taxation and corvée labor is quite enlightening."
"Cough," Zhao Changhe cleared his throat, "There's not much to say... To put it arrogantly, I set the tone for such matters, and the details can be entrusted to a Chief Historian."
