After returning to her room, Chen Wanqing discussed the matter with Zhao Jing.
It wasn't that she didn't want to keep her brother's secret. It was just that their voices had been a bit loud, and Jing had surely heard everything—both what he was meant to hear and what he wasn't.
He'd even stepped out of their room to see what was happening, but for some reason, he had turned back and gone inside.
De'an had been standing with his back to the room, too agitated to notice, but she had seen Jing's shoes and the hem of his robes quite clearly.
"De'an has a guilty conscience. He couldn't stay at the Wang Family's home, so he ran back here to take refuge."
"'Take refuge.' A perfect choice of words, Wanqing."
Chen Wanqing smiled at his words. "I'm actually familiar with the Third Miss. She's the epitome of innocence and naivete. De'an bumped into her twice, so she must despise him now and think he's rotten to the core."
"Perhaps."
"Jing, what are you doing?"
