"You're not going?" The young miss narrowed her eyes, looking at her younger brother and said word by word: "I've gone to great lengths, leveraging ancestral connections to invite Zhang over for you, and you say you're not going? I'll give you another chance to answer!"
"I'm not going!" The Seventh Young Master shrank his neck, still declining with his mouth.
"Zhao! Jing! Fan!" The young miss clenched her fists: "Don't force me to beat you up the moment I return!"
Hearing this familiar staccato, the Seventh Young Master seemed to recall some painful memories, and his voice became much quieter in response: "Zheng Fa brings back a pile of books every day, staying up late to paint these talismanic diagrams for me..."
The young miss' face stiffened slightly, the anger on her face slowly solidifying, seemingly caught off guard by his reason.
