Yu Xiheng was immersed in writing.
Si Fuqing peeked over his shoulder.
She noticed the familiar characters still penned on the paper --
"Fear not the want of armor, for mine is also yours to wear."
Setting down the tea brought, then making one cup, Si Fuqing spoke up, "Boss, are you still upset?"
"I am upset," Yu Xiheng replied, lifting his head. "Have you considered the consequences of your actions? If your assistant had arrived a few minutes later, you might have—"
He stopped abruptly.
But his furrowed brows and eyes clearly showing his displeasure.
"I have considered them," Si Fuqing responded, her expression becoming serious. "That's exactly why I chose to act."
"Oh?" Yu Xiheng set down his brush. "Let's hear it then."