A group of people came with an imposing aura, departing like a storm.
Jiang Yingying halted at the wrecked entrance, turning back to the seemingly still dazed Fan Shang.
Her gaze was icy, her voice equally cold: "Lord Fan Shang, you'd better pray your good grandson hasn't laid a hand on my maid!"
Fan Shang shuddered violently.
He wanted to say something, but Jiang Yingying gave him no chance, turning swiftly, taking fast strides, and mounting her horse to leave.
Her movements were fluid and uninterrupted, as if such actions were commonplace to her.
Only after the sound of hooves had completely vanished did the people in the courtyard dare to breathe loudly.
Fan Shang's wife was also alarmed.
A woman in her fifties with a face full of terror: "Is this the County Lord from the Duke Residence? How does she seem like a female devil to me? Wasn't she said to be the most dignified and reserved lady in Ye City's noble families?"
