Clever people have a way of speaking in veiled barbs, leaving you defenseless.
Duan Zeming's words, for instance, managed to subtly insult two people at once: one, the widely acknowledged idealized love of the Imperial City's high society, and the other, Dean Wen, who was innocently caught in the crossfire.
It was a matter of who came first. Whether with Jiang Yuxi or Su Yuhan, Wen Yechen had been the one to arrive first. Yet in the end, he would surely lose to the latecomer—Duan Zeming. This was both a veiled taunt and a declaration of war.
Su Yuhan glanced at Duan Zeming, who was beaming, every word a deliberate-yet-charming misstep meant to stake his claim. Then she looked at Wen Yechen, his face a cold, silent mask, though his glare was sharp enough to kill. Her scalp prickled with dread. She wished she could just lie down right there and let them do whatever they pleased.
This must be the legendary meeting of love rivals, where jealousy flares!
