Chapter 37

That man was truly insufferable; he actually—actually— The more Wen Xuyu thought about it, the more annoyed she became. She quickened her pace, not wanting to spare him another glance. Her heels clicked against the polished marble floor, the sharp, rhythmic sound serving as an undeniable declaration of her displeasure. As for her "moodiness," Bian Xunzhou was uncharacteristically indulgent; even the corners of his eyes betrayed a sense of satisfied abandon. They say it is worth dying under the peony flowers, and the ancients were right—there is a certain truth to that pleasure.