No wonder the Lin family’s young master always borrowed writing supplies from me, and the Sugar Cake family offered me buy-one-get-one deals — I thought it was due to my interpersonal skills. These flower buds were nipped in the bud before they could sprout; I didn’t even know such things had happened.
Duan Chang was taken to the Linglong Pavilion, and the items Yan Huo sent me were intercepted — all done by this beast. An Jin, with his jade-like face turning red with embarrassment and anger, said, “If the Third Prince Xia Zhichun hadn’t gone to Western Liang, I would have prevented your affair with him.”
I stared at him, speechless. It seemed An had not only focused on studying and taking exams but also on blocking my romantic encounters. My heart felt complicated. Should I blame him? If not for his interference, I might have married someone else long ago. I could hardly imagine being tenderly attentive to another man.
Over a decade of knowing each other, he had imperceptibly entered my heart.
I was used to him, just as I was used to crispy sugar cakes, glutinous rice balls, my father’s digressions, and my mother’s fierce nature. I waited sweetly at home every day for someone to return for dinner. Being with anyone else felt like an abnormal error that needed immediate correction.
On second thought, I shouldn’t blame him; I should reward him.
An Jin stared at me, probably unnerved by my changing expressions. Although I didn’t blame him, I didn’t want to back down either. He clearly didn’t want me to marry someone else, but instead of fighting for me openly, he resorted to underhanded tactics, disrespecting my right to know. I wanted to teach him a lesson to ease my frustration.
I kept a stern face, casting a cold glance at him like a winter wind in the twelfth lunar month. “So that’s how it was. Others aside, but Yan Huo…”
I was about to ask how he had involved Yan Huo, who was in Xiliang, but unexpectedly, his face darkened as he murmured, “I know, I understand.”
What did he understand? I was puzzled.
