Meanwhile, on another row, Zhao Guangyao was attempting to demonstrate that he was still useful.
He planted a seedling with exaggerated care, then looked up. "See? it is not so bad. Once you get into rhythm, it is quite manageable."
Sun Qiaolian, who had just felt mud seep into her socks, smiled sweetly. "You are very capable."
She watched him closely, her expression gentle, but her eyes sharp.
She had noticed the way he looked at Wu Shiyun earlier.
Brief.
Hopeful.
Regretful.
It was hard to miss when she was standing right beside him. Not because she was interested in him, since there was absolutely nothing about him that attracted her, but because that subtle shift in his gaze felt like being quietly labelled as someone's second choice. And Sun Qiaolian had never been fond of second place.
