Song Xilan refused to believe that Song Lianhe was completely unharmed—not so much as a single hair out of place.
'But how could the news Man Yue brought back be false?'
Suppressing a storm of complex emotions, she asked, "And the Prince?"
"Er, I just asked the coachman. The Prince went to Huaxu Square."
"What kind of place is that?"
"I asked around as well. They say it's… it's… the Music Bureau."
CRASH.
Song Xilan violently swept all the teacups from the table onto the floor.
—
「Huaxu Square.」
Shu Fengli knelt on the ground, his head bowed, not daring to breathe.
Zhen Niang stood to the side, watching him coldly.
Zhou Junlin took a sip of tea, his eyes cold and dark. "Where did you go?"
Shu Fengli's fists tightened, and he lowered his head even further. "Your Highness, an old enemy of mine came looking for me."
"Oh?"
Zhou Junlin looked up. Though his dark eyes seemed gentle, they held an inexplicable, cold detachment. "You have enemies?"
