Fu Tinghan stared intently into her eyes, and upon seeing the helplessness within them, a hint of amusement flashed in his own. His brows curved gently, and he couldn't help but let a smile form at the corners of his lips.
The guests followed suit, offering praise, yet unlike Zhao Hanzhang, theirs was sincere, filled with admiration as they looked enviously at Ji Yuan.
If they could also receive a flower from the Commander to pin in their hair, they wouldn't wash their heads for a month. They would strive to preserve the flower, and if possible, hire an artist to capture the scene, have the painting mounted, and hang it in their hall for everyone to admire.
Men of the time cherished elegance, even a General like Beigong Chun couldn't help but gaze at the flower on Ji Yuan's temples with a touch of envy.
