Zhao Rong curled his lips and glanced at Yu Huaijin, who had just accepted the cucumber; she finally deigned to extend a little of her long-hidden pale, delicate hand from her sleeve.
Zhao Rong felt somewhat relieved, thankful that his own Qing Jun and little one were not such dull women; sometimes, they would even boldly spit out the term "bookworm" at him in private.
He wondered which unfortunate soul would end up marrying this "log."
However, logically speaking, there should be no one willing, but...
The image of Brother Han from the Cultivation Hall, with his handsome face, flashed through Zhao Rong's mind, and he turned to look at Jia Tengying, who was gazing brightly at Yu Huaijin.
With a smile playing on his lips, Zhao Rong thought, This "log" has competitors too? Cough, Brother Han, Brother Teng Ying, do your best.
