"Humph, a mere joke."
Mu Yunye coldly withdrew his gaze, turned past the corridor's corner, and exhaled a disdainful breath through his nose.
His attendant had no right to enter the banquet and had been waiting outside the tower.
Upon seeing his master step out, he naturally followed closely.
"Young Master, do you truly intend to marry a lady from the Mortal World's Capital as your wife? I have heard rumors.
That Miss Fang is known for her spoiled disposition, domineering nature, and unruly behavior. How could someone like her become our Young Mistress?"
"Indeed, Young Master, moreover, you are betrothed to the Eighth Princess of Guyin.
If you marry Miss Fang, it means we must completely sever our ties with Guyin. Have you... truly thought this through?"
Mu Yunye had never been interested in appreciating flowers or snow.
He walked alone to the Cold Pavilion, took a bamboo pole, cast a line into the icy lake, and began fishing gracefully with a calm gaze.
