Chapter III

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Fang's confession surprised Lady Yaya and although she liked the idea that someone had taken an interest to Ying, she gave him her usual smile, but that smile was laced with a warning. Ying is just too young for marriage, especially for this bold man.

Yaya calmly let go of his hands, "I am clearly aware on how you're treating my sister, Sir Fang." She gave him another cold smile, "If you hurt Ying, although I may not look like it, I can clearly finish you off myself. Tehehe."

Oh god. Fang wanted to disappear from the dangerous aura emitted by the woman whom he thought was defenseless and weak.

Yaya clapped her hands enthusiastically, to break the atmosphere around them, "Very well. If you can make her say yes, then why not? Tehehe." She gracefully stood from her chair, "If I can hear negative complaints about you harassing my little flower then," she gave him a cold and warning glare. "I don't mind taking off those sinful hands."

Oh shit. Fang forgot how to breath for a moment as he absentmindedly nodded.

"Well then, I'll excuse myself. See you tomorrow," She gracefully walked away from him with a hum.

Fang was left moping on the metallic and circular table with a pout. "Damn. I thought I was being choked to death." He started to breakdown, "Oh! He doesn't like me for Ying? But why?! Was she not charmed by my eyes? Damn! These girls are not easily charmed!" He couldn't help but pout at the green and warm garden and sighed in a melancholic heartbreak. However, he groaned when a familiar headache visited him and remembered to open the parasol standing beside his chair.

Yaya marched gracefully towards the mansion and although she was humming, she was clearly in a bad mood. Well, although he has pure motives, how can a guy carelessly hold her hand like that! Didn't he know that it's improper to hold a woman's hand? In the Eastern Land were feminism is highly romanticized, it is considered a foolish move to touch the hand of an unmarried woman. That Western man may have forgotten about it or maybe he was too excited about his proposal.

"Lady Yaya,"

She took an annoyed sidelong glance to where the voice was, "Yes, Sir Boboiboy?"

"You're stepping on something, if you don't mind." His voice was carefree and gentle.

She tried to lift her skirt a little bit to see the thing he was talking about and to her surprise, it was a pink flower.

"You may seem smiling but I know whenever you're faking it." His smile turned wider, fingers pointing on his own cheek that made him look childish.

He walked towards her, "May I?" He pointed on the ground.

"Oh," she sidesteps and the man went on his feet to pick it up and handed the single flower to her.

"Flowers are admired because they always smile under the blue sky. And they keep getting prettier when it is praised, don't you think?"

She blinked at his comment, "Oh," How poetic, he reminds her of someone she once knew, it seems like she had forgotten her bad mood already. What a nice man.

He smiled again, eyes glimmering even though the clouds have covered the sun outside, "Will you take this pink flower from me?"

"Oh," she hesitated for a bit but then took it, hands careful not to touch his gloved hand and her mind wishing they would touch, how odd. She glanced at the pink flower with thick soft petals sticking around a fluffy fresh sphere where yellowish orange pollens have grown mature.  It only grows in her land and she knows what it looks and smells like. Yet why does it felt like it's not the first time someone had made her truly calm down after a bad mood?

Please Take My HandDove le storie prendono vita. Scoprilo ora