Late at night, the light in the young head maid's room was still on.
Xiaoling circled Xiaolan, walking round and round.
She was like a stonemason admiring a newly carved work of art. Her gaze held a hint of inquiry and a touch of awe, which finally melted into wholehearted relief.
Xiaolan stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, helplessly wringing the hem of her nightgown.
Being scrutinized by her younger sister like this, her cheeks were flushed so red they looked as if they might bleed.
"Sister." Xiaoling stopped pacing, her expression serious.
"I must admit, your performance was far better than I ever expected."
She reached out a finger and gently caressed the red, swollen spot on Xiaolan's forehead, which had been treated with ointment but was still clearly visible.
"In any Knight novel, this would be considered the most dream-like of beginnings."
This comment made Xiaolan feel even more mortified, and she hung her head lower.
