"Mmmph..." As Ning Xuan muttered to herself, a soft whimper came from the bed.
Ning Xuan glanced at Yu Mingche, who was bound to the bed. "Understood," she said. "Go to Qianjin Restaurant and book a private room for tonight. Send word that I will be hosting them there this evening."
"Yes, ma'am." Yan Fuzhen had also heard the noise coming from Ning Xuan's end. He could naturally tell who, besides Ning Xuan, was responsible for that other sound.
The thought of Yu Mingche in Ning Xuan's bed right now—and the memory of his stunning looks—made Yan Fuzhen's spirits sink. He sighed to himself. 'Never mind that our Marshal has no time. Even if he could be by Ning Xuan's side, he'd probably still lose to that fox spirit, Yu Mingche.'
Resigned to his fate, Yan Fuzhen went to run the errand, hoping to at least defend a sliver of territory for his Marshal.
