What kind of chrysanthemum?

He doesn't understand.

All he knew was that drinking water when he was nervous was a habit he'd had since childhood.

When Shen Qingcheng bid farewell to the Gu family, he was carrying two catties of chrysanthemum tea and a pot of chrysanthemums.

Shen Jiao gave him a pound, and when Madam Gu heard about it, she also gave him a pound.

As for this pot of chrysanthemums, Gu An secretly took it from his father's yard.

He said, "If you want to eat, grow your own. A real man should learn to be self-reliant. How can a grown man have the nerve to ask a girl for something?"

Shen Qingcheng: "..."

He looked up at the starry sky, never expecting things to turn out this way.

As Shen Qingcheng descended the steps, he turned the corner and saw a proud and aloof figure.

Why is the tyrant here?

Shen Qingcheng's expression tightened, and he called out, "Your Majesty."

Ji Yan stared at him for a couple of seconds, her eyes deep and unfathomable, her thoughts unreadable.

His voice was cold: "Shen Qingcheng, the next time you can't help but want to tell her about your relationship with the Marquis of Anbo's mansion, you'd better bring a reasonable explanation, an explanation of why she appeared in Wei from Huguo Temple."

"Otherwise, I will not hesitate to remove your tongue."

Shen Qingcheng nodded: "Your subject understands."

...

The next morning, as dawn broke and the first rays of sunlight appeared.

A sliver of light shone through the half-open window and fell on a corner of the dressing table.

Shen Jiao yawned, her head nodding uncontrollably.

Today is the day that Zui Shan Xuan is launching its crayfish dishes, and that's why she got up early.

It turns out that if you don't get up early for a long time, and then occasionally get up early, you'll feel completely disoriented.