At breakfast the next day, Ying Ji indeed brought up the topic of marriage. Rong Zhi hadn't reacted yet when Ying Zhao Yuan, sitting across from him, spat out a mouthful of milk.
"What?? Marriage? No way, I don't agree!"
Ying Zhao Yuan wiped his mouth, his voice muffled by the bandage on his nose. "Little Nine is still so young, she'll only be nineteen after the New Year. Uncle, you can't disregard Little Nine's age just because of Bai Su."
Ying Ji frowned and shook his head, "No, I just mentioned it. He didn't agree."
As he spoke, he glanced at Bai Su.
Ying Zhao Yuan: "Huh??"
He immediately glared fiercely at Bai Su, accusing, "You said you liked Little Nine, but it was all lies. You won't even marry her, what are you talking about—ugh!"
His mouth was stuffed with a dumpling.
Ying Zhao Yuan mumbled, unable to speak.
Rong Zhi calmly retracted her chopsticks.
"Eat your breakfast."
