Yeats Howard swaggered into the side lounge, catching sight of his dainty little auntie, who looked as fragile as a porcelain doll, guiding two tiny kids to wash their faces and hands. His little uncle gazed at the trio like a love-struck fool. Yeats couldn't help but click his tongue in admiration, exclaiming, "Wow, it's practically raining red petals here."
Yeats collapsed onto the plush sofa and theatrically shouted, "Uncle, for the sake of me bringing back these two little ancestors who are a total handful, reward me with some tea!"
Ignatius Leclair withdrew his gaze, turning his attention to the playful heir who was nearing thirty but still lived a reckless life. His sharp eyebrows furrowed abruptly, and he said coldly, "Yeats, has the old matriarch been pressuring you to get married lately?"
