"Husband was right; these genes really aren't much to speak of," she murmured.
Thus rejected by Mrs. Lai, the young lady felt anger surge, stomping her foot, ready to storm off huffing and puffing. She took a few steps but paused at the doorstep, seemingly reluctant to leave.
At that moment, she smelled the aroma of meat wafting from the kitchen, which halted her steps. Her eyes darted around and landed on Hongji's father, seated with his kin, leisurely puffing on a bamboo pipe. The men conversed sporadically, enveloped in a cloud of smoke.
The young lady stared intensely at Hongji's father, studying him. This man, in his forties or fifties, was dressed in garments befitting a wealthy man and bore no signs of severe aging.
He looked every part the wealthy master; a wealthy master in his forties or fifties could still take a young woman as a concubine, provided he could afford the price.
