Princess Xinyang's pen suddenly stopped.
Yujin, while kneading Gu Jiao's calf, glanced at Princess Xinyang without a trace.
In fact, Yujin was also unsure what Princess Xinyang's true attitude toward the young marquis was—saying she cared, yet heartlessly refusing to recognize him; saying she didn't care, yet she would faint from sadness over his plight.
As for fainting from anger, Yujin did not believe it, would not accept it.
It was probably that she couldn't overcome a certain barrier in her heart.
Perhaps she feared that being too kind to the young marquis would betray the memory of the child who had died.
Gu Jiao was being massaged so comfortably that she felt sleepy, her little head starting to nod off like a pecking chicken.
Yujin signaled to the young maid with a wave of her hand, gesturing for her to bring over a cushion.
The young maid complied.
With a meaningful look from Yujin, the maid placed the cushion behind Gu Jiao and gently helped her lean back against it.