Lord Jin finally leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing as he studied her face, "Yueyao, I don't like orange juice and you should leave all that work for the servants, you don't need to tire yourself..."
"Servants... Servants.... Are they any better than me?" She roughly slapped one of the glasses containing juice down to the floor.
The glass shattered against the polished floor, the bright juice spilling like sunlight across the dark rug. Fang Lin flinched, stepping back, her breath caught in her throat. The guards stiffened but dared not move.
Only Jin Shuren remained utterly calm. His gaze did not flicker to the broken shards, nor to the spreading stain. Instead, his eyes stayed on Yueyao, sharp, unwavering, and impossibly tender beneath the steel.
Slowly, he rose from behind the desk. Each movement deliberate, unhurried, a man who feared nothing except pushing her further away from him after all the waiting.
