Zhao Yang furrowed her delicate brows, assuming it was the steward of the Prince's Mansion who had arrived.
She scolded in a playful tone, "This princess still wishes to stroll with Weiwei. Go back and tell Second Brother to send someone in a couple of days. With so many concubines in the Prince's Mansion, why must Second Brother insist on taking *my* companion?"
The deep blue carriage curtain swayed as a pair of slender, well-defined fingers parted it.
Prince Yan stepped down from the carriage.
Clad in a black brocade robe, his face was as cold and unyielding as ice, his lips pressed into a thin line beneath his tall, straight nose. An aura of quiet authority emanated from his brow, inspiring awe in those around him.
When Prince Yan's gaze landed on Zhao Yang, she immediately felt the weight of it, as if an immense mountain had settled upon her shoulders.
Her heart pounded like a drum as she stammered, "S-second Brother..."
