Xin Lin was about to lift the carriage curtain when suddenly, outside the carriage, a voice came through.
"That's my carriage."
Long Qingchen, Sikong Ran, Bai You, and the others saw a woman stride out of the crowd.
The coachman driving the carriage had long been scared silent.
"Murong Ziyue, it's you again! A good dog does not block the path. Didn't you see that Young Master Sikong, Miss Bai, and I have urgent matters? If you delay us, can you bear the consequences?"
Long Qingchen's eyebrows knitted tightly at the sight of the comer.
The arrival had a face like a silver plate, pure and clear features, wearing an elegantly simple purple dress, with hair black as a waterfall, radiating a cold aloofness mixed with pride—it was Murong Ziyue.
"The road to Heaven is wide-open; everyone to their path. If you want to get past, find your way around."
The streets were full of girls and young women sending surreptitious glances at Sikong Ran, but Murong Ziyue's eyes remained calm.
