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Meng Fuyao found this sentence odd, yet was unable to retort. Looking into Zhangsun Wuji's eyes, she could see some sort of emotions in them, yet she could not decipher if it was anger. Regardless, she knew it was not appropriate, and from her experience, as long as Zhangsun Wuji felt that it was not appropriate, she could not say otherwise. With much resentment, she said, "Drink then."

She handed over the bowl of soup lazily to Zhangsun Wuji, but he was not going to let her off so easily. "Here? In someone else's house?"

'Goodness, this young master is certainly a handful to wait upon. Also, what is with that sour smell emitting off you? How stingy!'

Gloomily, she grabbed the soup and followed behind him. He strolled leisurely around the garden, where mimosa silk tree flowers bloomed joyfully. The pale pink of the flowers resembled the attractive lips of a young lady, fanning out into rows of red.