"Young Master!"
A foolish-sounding voice rang out from behind Zeng Anmin. Soon enough, Dachun was seen jogging over. His running posture was incredibly strange. Tall and burly, he kept his arms clamped tightly to his sides, and his hips—wide enough to fit two people—twisted awkwardly with every step.
"Are you not going to the Imperial College today?" Dachun wasn't flushed or panting when he arrived. He looked at Zeng Anmin with a foolish grin.
"No, there is an important case to handle today." Zeng Anmin turned his head to glance at Bai Ziqing.
At the moment, Bai Ziqing's eyes were vacant; he looked heavily burdened by his thoughts.
"I'm going to help Ziqing with a case."
"Oh, then should I go to the Imperial College and request a leave for you?" Dachun asked, scratching his head as he looked at Zeng Anmin.
Zeng Anmin's face filled with disbelief. His eyes went wide as his voice suddenly rose. "What do you mean, request a fee? What fee??"
