Shen Wei and Sun Qingmei were chatting in the courtyard villa. Meanwhile, at the heart of Falling Moon Lake, within the lakeside pavilion, Zhao Yang was also preparing for a heartfelt conversation with Yan Yunting.
A gentle breeze rippled across the emerald waters, tousling the loose strands of hair at Zhao Yang's forehead. Bathed in sunlight, her eyes sparkled with blissful joy as she gazed affectionately at Yan Yunting.
"That man reeks of the jianghu—hardly a decent match. Your Highness ought to be cautious," Yan Yunting warned with a frown.
The youth in brocade robes gave Yan Yunting an overwhelming sense of unease.
Mo the Divine Physician was undeniably handsome, clad in flowing white robes and wielding a folding fan—the very image of a rakish libertine who dallied among flowers. Yan Yunting couldn't help but worry that Zhao Yang might be swayed by his honeyed words, with unthinkable consequences.
