"She has been sneaking glances at you."
"Just because she looks at me doesn't mean she likes me. She could just as well be an enemy," Zhao Rong said with a laugh.
The woman in the Confucian robe at the table lowered her eyes, nodded, and softly intoned, "Even if she is an enemy, she would be the kind who will entangle you for a lifetime."
Zhao Rong, not knowing what had come to mind, sighed inwardly, troubled by the grace of the beauty.
"Besides, isn't it obvious? The affairs between men and women have been the same throughout history, regardless of region or race, haven't they?"
Yourong Zhu slowly retorted, raising her brush to continue enjoying calligraphy, tracing the characters Zhao Rong had just added, and then she continued,
"Such a young girl, inexperienced in matters, cannot hide her feelings, her eyes... they're filled with nothing but you."
