"Lu Jiu, come out."
Song Zhuozhi finished her critiquing of the accessories, using a golden hairpin to fiddle with a wooden comb. Only when she heard the sound of the wooden teeth breaking did she smile in satisfaction.
When Lu Jiu came out, he stood behind her, silently awaiting instructions.
But unlike the previous two days, she didn't tell him to kill anyone, she simply asked,
"You've watched over her for so many years, tell me, isn't she pitiful?"
Lu Jiu felt it was strange and remained silent, avoiding giving an evaluation.
However, Song Zhuozhi seemed determined to force him to say the word "pitiful," and any slight misstep would arouse her fury.
"Won't you speak?"
The sharp end of the golden hairpin poked into his shoulder. She held the thin lotus on the hairpin and blood flowed from her hand, dripping onto him.
"Speak! Isn't she very pitiful?! The most pitiful fool in all of the capital city, insignificant in anyone's eyes!"
