Feng Yun's heart constricted slightly, her brain going blank for a moment.
"Princely Heir did this... just to retaliate against me?"
"Don't talk nonsense." Chunyu Yan played with her sash as if he earnestly wanted her to feel that torment; languidly, he did not pull it, as though he might tear it open at any moment, making her lose face.
"It was I who saved Qingqing. Had it not been for my timely intervention, your delicate skin and tender flesh, once in the hands of jackals and tigers, what do you think they would have done to you?"
Feng Yun gave him a feeble smile, "Jackals and tigers? Whom does Princely Heir refer to?"
Chunyu Yan raised his eyebrows slightly, "I'm referring to people you shouldn't provoke."
He was nonchalant, his hand resting on the curve of Feng Yun's waist, flicking her sash lightly.
Under his gaze, Feng Yun felt as if thorns were on her back, her eyes gradually heating up, nervously breaking into a cold sweat.