Zhao Lan snorted lightly, followed by a dejected sigh, "I never expected that that little wench, though looking frail, is quite tough in a scuffle. I only got some scratches on my face—looks nasty, but it's nothing serious. Instead, I ended up winning everyone's sympathy for her. And that time she was knocked in the head, it wasn't because I was clumsy. It was because that little wench pressed something on my hand that hurt so much, I had to push her away hard. By the time I came to my senses, she was lying on the ground, blood all over her head. You didn't see the way those villagers looked at me, as if I had committed some heinous crime. It's unbearable."
Having mingled out and about enough to have seen the world, Li Genbao was not as naive as Zhao Lan, who thought it was just bad luck. As soon as he heard the story, he felt something off and had Zhao Lan recount every detail. After listening, he slapped his thigh,