Lu Ying was silent.
Despite facing a delicate and soft young maiden he hadn't seen in days, every muscle in his body tensed as if bracing against a formidable enemy. His narrow eyes were dark and brooding, the lines of his jaw and thin lips sharp and chilling.
"Look at you," Shen Yinning's brows arched as her voice fluttered gently, "I'm nothing but a frail young woman, yet Brother Lu Ying looks at me as if he's seen a terrible foe. Oh, by the way, I've already sent men to the adjacent hall to slaughter Shen Yunxi. Later, when Brother Lu Ying hears of her death, don't let it make you too sad or upset, alright?"
Lu Ying's expression finally shifted ever so slightly.
His voice was low, chilly, and hoarse: "Who gave you the authority to touch her?"
