"Miss...are you alright? Are you burned?" Jinse's anxious voice broke the silence.
Luo Qingrou snapped back to reality, as if waking from a nightmare. She hurriedly lowered her head, avoiding Lu Zheng's gaze that seemed to see right through her, and also avoiding any possible stares from outside the moon gate. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, as if it would burst her ribs. She forced back the sob in her throat and the tears welling in her eyes, using all her strength to keep her voice steady, yet a barely concealed tremor still lingered:
"No...it's nothing. My hand slipped." She didn't even dare to look at Lu Zheng again, quickly pulling out the warm, smooth jade butterfly pendant that she always kept close to her body from her sleeve, clutching it tightly in her palm, as if it were her only lifeline, giving her a sliver of support. The sharp edges of the jade pendant hurt her palm, but it was far less intense than the sudden, sharp, and unfamiliar panic that struck her heart.
She hurriedly said to Jinse, "Pack your things. We... are going back to the manor." After saying that, she almost fled, and with Jinse's support, she walked unsteadily away from the Zhenguo Duke's manor's flower hall. She even forgot to ask for the handkerchief that Lu Zheng had "snatched" from her, and she forgot to maintain her usual elegance and composure.
All that remained were shattered porcelain and tea stains scattered on the ground, along with the lingering aromas of tea, chrysanthemum, and her unique, yet now flustered, scent of cold plum blossoms.
Lu Zheng stood still, neither stopping him nor offering his usual sarcastic remarks. He slowly bent down, picked up a slightly larger shard of porcelain from beside his feet, and unconsciously ran his fingertips along its sharp edge. The few insignificant mud stains on his dark robe now seemed particularly jarring.
He looked down at the tiny bloodstain on his fingertip, cut by the edge of a porcelain shard, then looked up in the direction where Luo Qingrou had disappeared. The area outside the moon gate was empty, with only a few fallen leaves swirling in the autumn wind.
"The Northern Border...guarding..." He repeated his father's words in a low voice, his brows furrowed, his eyes as deep as a cold pool. His usual nonchalance had been replaced by solemnity and an unprecedentedly complex emotion. Luo Qingrou's distraught and devastated appearance just now was etched into his mind like a brand.
Inside the flower hall, only the shattered teacup silently recounted the heart-stopping events that had just transpired, and the girl's unspoken feelings that had been abruptly revealed and hastily concealed. The sunlight outside the window remained warm, but it could no longer penetrate the suddenly darkened hearts of some.
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