Chen Wanqing let out a sudden sneeze. Snapping back to reality, she quickly pulled her clothes tighter and waved for Zhao Jing to get back to his work. She then hurried out of the room and toward the west wing to make her incense.
Chen Wanqing's steps were light and quick, but anyone who knew her would have seen at a glance that she was flustered, as if making a hasty retreat.
It wasn't until she was inside the west wing with the door shut behind her, her back pressed against it, that Chen Wanqing felt her heart, still pounding wildly. THUMP. THUMP.
She recalled Zhao Jing from just a moment ago. 'His eyes were so dark and intense, as if brimming with countless emotions.'
'And now... he was a year older, on the verge of gaining prestige and status. He was starting to show his fangs.'
Chen Wanqing pressed her lips together, slowly peeling herself away from the door and walking further into the room.
