Lu Ying remained expressionless as she let her wipe away the five delicate, floral-scripted characters reading "Shen Zhaozhao's dog" from his arm with a handkerchief.
This little fox spirit was adept at feigning innocence and currying favor—during their time in the Warm Pavilion, she had deliberately pulled back his sleeve, and now she claimed it wouldn't be proper to let others see.
Either way, she always managed to justify herself.
Shen Yinning cleaned the words off, then tilted her delicate face up: "Though I may be merely Your Highness's plaything, I am still a living, breathing person. Since I am human, how could I be without feelings? If Your Highness keeps calling me 'plaything' again and again, it will surely wound me."
Her tone was even, but there was a sorrow veiled within her clear, crystalline gaze.
It was as if she truly had been hurt by Lu Ying.
Lu Ying regarded her, his eyes betraying no emotion: "What do you want me to call you?"
