Yang Yulong continued to comfort his younger sister, all the while plotting the gruesome murder of the person who made her like this. He had ordered a set of Arabian daggers a few days ago and they had finally arrived this morning. He supposed it was time to test out how fine their craftsmanship is.
When Fan Jielan and Yang Qianlu came back to the table after mingling and chatting with many other families, they were confused by the change of atmosphere. Their youngest son was patting the back of their daughter instead of wooing women and their other son was sitting as still as a rock.
"What happened?" Yang Qianlu's voice was heavy, angered even, at the sight of his baby girl.
"Nothing, papa." Yang Ruqin shook her head, her bottom lip slightly jutted out in a tiny pout with her brows pulled together.
"Were you crying?"
Yang Ruqin hurriedly shook her head. "No, I wasn't. Don't fret."
