Lin Tingfeng's face became even stranger, and a wicked smile appeared in his eyes. He said slowly, "That was built by my father. I have always hated that garden."
What?! Ye Wenyu was stunned, her eyes wide open and her face deathly pale.
Lin Tingfeng frowned and said, "The reason I hate it is because, as you said, it's neither Chinese nor Western, it's a hodgepodge, and I've always planned to retake it."
What?!
Ye Wenyu was so flustered that cold sweat poured down her back. Had she tried to flatter him but ended up making a fool of herself? It was said that Lin Tingfeng and his father had always been at odds.
Sure enough, Lin Tingfeng seemed to see through her heart, gave her a mysterious look, and suddenly said, "My relationship with my father has never been good. You're right, he's just a tasteless nouveau riche."
What?!
All her praise of Lin Jiayuan earlier, all that flowery talk, was a complete waste of effort! Not only did it fail to win his forgiveness, but it also completely destroyed any goodwill she had shown him before. Would he take back her four years of tuition in a fit of anger because she offended him?
Ye Wenyu lowered her head heavily, unable to shed a tear. Her heart was in utter turmoil, like an autumn dandelion, scattered and adrift in the wind, with nowhere to settle.
No wonder the ancients said that silence is golden; she really talks too much.
Lin Tingfeng glanced at her. The girl's face, brimming with tears, resembled a white lotus flower on a summer pond. He gazed at her and suddenly said gently, "However, that piece of small-leaf sandalwood was something I personally found in India and brought back by air. You have a good eye for it."
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