The next day, Qingying woke up just as the sky was turning pale.

Afraid of waking up Meng Zhao, she got off the couch very quietly, slowly put on her clothes and shoes, picked up her bag, and was about to open the door and leave.

A man's low voice came from behind her: "Wait until I finish washing up, then you can come back."

Qingying turned around and saw that Meng Zhao on the bed had woken up, looking at her with his dark eyes.

Qingying was surprised. Meng Zhao got up a little early this morning. In the past, after she got up, he would always sleep for half an hour before waking up.

She thought, maybe the noise she made when she got up just now woke him up.

But it seemed not to be the case. She had obviously reduced the noise to a minimum.

Usually, the noise she made when she got up was louder, but Meng Zhao was never woken up.

Meng Zhao had already given the order, so Qingying had no choice but to put down her bag and walk back to help him change his clothes and wash up.

After washing up, Meng Zhao wanted to have breakfast.

Qingying stood behind him and served him the dishes. This breakfast, Meng Zhao ate very slowly, and it took him twice as long as usual.

He tasted every dish on the table, chewing slowly, with elegant movements and noble manners.

When Meng Zhao finally finished eating, Qingying's stomach was already growling with hunger, so she had no choice but to sit down and start eating breakfast.

Originally, she planned to go home early and eat the pancakes baked by her mother.

She didn't expect Meng Zhao to wake up so early. This was totally beyond her expectations.

A quarter of an hour later, Qingying was full. She picked up her bag, bowed to Meng Zhao, who was sitting in front of the desk looking at the account book, and said softly: "Young Master, I'm leaving."

"Yeah." Meng Zhao didn't raise his head, his eyes still on the account book.

After Qingying walked out of the room, he suddenly raised his head and looked out the window.

From this angle, he could just see Qingying walking out the door.

She walked briskly, impatiently rushing home, without looking back.

When Qingying walked out so far that she could no longer be seen, Meng Zhao retracted his gaze and continued to look at the boring account book on the table.

Qingying was not there, and the person serving Meng Zhao was replaced by Meng Wu again.

Meng Zhao never thought so before, but now, he thinks that Madam Meng is right, Meng Wu is really a rough man, and his service is not thoughtful enough.

As for where he is not thoughtful, he can't say, but he just feels that it is not as comfortable as Qingying's service.

In the bedroom.

Meng Zhao was sitting in the bathtub soaking in the medicinal bath, and Meng Wu was standing behind him scrubbing his back.

Through a layer of mist, the handsome man slowly opened his eyes and asked the subordinates behind him: "Do you know where my aunt lives?"

Meng Wu was stunned and shook his head: "I don't know."

The person responsible for carrying Qingying into the house was from the madam's yard, and he didn't care about my aunt, so how could he know.

Meng Zhao said, "I'll check tomorrow and tell me the address."

"Yes." Meng Wu agreed respectfully.

*

In the western suburbs of Anyang City, there is an ordinary small village.

Qingying and her younger brother Qinghe were picking dates under the jujube tree at the entrance of the village.

The tree was a little high, and Qingying couldn't reach it, so she poked it with a bamboo pole.

The dates as big as eggs fell one after another on the soft green grass, like hail.

Qinghe picked them up with a basket, jumping and jumping, two here, three there, too many, he couldn't pick them all.

Soon, the two picked two baskets of dates.

Qingying carried a large basket, Qinghe carried a small basket, and they walked home happily hand in hand.

Not far ahead stood a handsome man.

The sharp-eyed Qinghe took a look and immediately shouted excitedly: "Sister, it's Brother Jianan, he must be here to play with you."

Jianan was Meng Xun, who told Qingying that his name was Meng Jianan. Qingying

heard Qinghe's shouting, looked forward, and saw the familiar face of the man. The smile on her face disappeared, and her body became a little stiff.

Qinghe was a five-year-old child and didn't know what happened between the adults.

Qingying touched his little head and said softly: "Ahe, go home first and see if mother has prepared the meal. Sister wants to talk to Brother Jianan alone."

"Okay."

Qinghe carried the small basket and skipped home.