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"It is of the highest honor to pick firewood for the Empress herself, and even more to light the fire to cook the deer that will fill Her Grace's stomach," responded Zhangsun Wuji solemnly. "No matter what, picking is better than throwing away."

'Double meaning! Someone is playing with puns again, who was thrown away? Clearly, he was the one who threw me aside, alright? Why was the one complaining always him first? The pot calling the kettle black? Why did he always have to make me feel guilty of every little thing?'

Angered, Meng Fuyao put her hands on her hips and turned around. "I!" She announced loudly.

Zhangsun Wuji smiled as he watched her, his eyes slightly moist.

"—will go pick the firewood…"

Meng Fuyao got off her horse and hadn't straightened herself when her vision went dark. In an instant, she had been swept into a warm embrace.