Qin Xiangyi was creeped out by that look. An instinctive fear crawled up her spine.
“Flower Slave, why are you looking at me like that?”
Flower Slave narrowed her eyes and pressed on.
“Why does the Flower Master know about Withered Wood Meets Spring?”
Her tone was probing, edged and dangerous, as if the moment Qin Xiangyi misspoke even a single word, she would pull out a knife from her sleeve and hack her to pieces on the spot.
Qin Xiangyi suddenly understood. Of course she knew. All of this was setting from her own novel. Not only did...
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