A height of 1.6 meters had become a burden for her. Her frail shoulders seemed as thin as paper, and it felt like the wind could carry her away.
Rong Yan sighed. No wonder she had heard people outside the woodshed urging the young girl to head back, saying it was too windy and that the wind wouldn't do her any good.
For someone as skinny and fragile as this young girl, being out in the wind certainly wasn't a good idea.
"He's fine, I just knocked him unconscious." Rong Yan said to the angry-looking men, then turned her warm gaze toward the frail girl in front of her. She stretched out her hand and gently asked, "Are you his sister?"
Rong Yan was stunning—her beauty was vividly striking, like a flower blooming amidst opulence. Every detail of her features seemed meticulously crafted, the kind of beauty that even other women couldn't help but feel drawn to.
