Ai Hui sat on the ground of the workshop, gasping heavily.
The rising fog carried a herbal medicinal odor as it squirted out from the window from time to time. The workshop was like a monster, spewing poisonous gas at random intervals.
The embroidery ladies didn’t dare to go close and rather took more steps to walk around it instead. Many of them had come to a sudden realization—no wonder the workshop never produced any Twilight Silk. But there were still bolder ladies who stole glances at Ai Hui from afar.
It was seriously hot inside the workshop, and Ai Hui was working half-naked, displaying his well-proportioned, robust, and fit body. His skin was emitting a golden glow as if he’d been smeared with a layer of grease. The steam within the workshop carried an unpleasant odor, which prevented the women from approaching—but it did not stop them from admiring from a distance.
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