Rong Xingyu froze.
He seemed to have heard a familiar word.
Unable to help himself, he interjected, "Wait, what general did you say?"
He has Ding surname?
Could it be Ding Yixin?
But then Rong Xingyu remembered that the young master of this prime minister's household he had transmigrated into did not share his own name.
If the person this scumbag father intended to force him to marry was not Ding Yixin, that would be awkward indeed.
For Rong Xingyu himself, it might be manageable.
But if Ding Yixin ever found out… Rong Xingyu's temple twitched faintly, his waist would probably suffer for it later.
Pressing his lips together, his long lashes lowered.
He was still tangled in his thoughts and therefore did not say anything further.
Yet in the eyes of the others in the front hall, his silence looked like quiet resistance.
