Suddenly, a sharp splinter cut through her white fingers, and striking blood flowed out and dripped to the ground.

"Miss..."Fu Rou choked up and knelt down towards the Wang family, "Old lady, Miss is still sick, let the slave maid pick it up for her..."

"When is it your turn to interject? Come! Pull this girl who doesn't know how to lift down and slap her mouth! Wang, who was still angry, took the dragon head cane in his hand and knocked it hard a few times.

A few of the family members came up and dragged Furou away.

"Furou..."

Song Qingge knelt on the ground and clenched the fragments in his hand. When she walked out of Yongle Pavilion, the palm of her hand had been cut out of the shards and covered with blood.

"Miss! ...”

Seeing the horrific blood marks on her hands, Furou, whose face was swollen, hurriedly ran up to hug her.

Back in Zhuyunyuan, Furou found gauze and held back her tears to clean her wounds.

Song Qingge stretched out her hand and touched her puffy face, and said apologetically: "It's me who has troubled you." ”

Fu Rou shook her head, raised her face and smiled, "Miss, it's just a few slaps, the slave is fine." ”

Seeing her so relieved, Song Qingge opened the corners of her lips, looked at the heavy gauze, and asked, "You say, cousin, will he still marry me?" ”

Since the accident in the Song Palace, eight years ago, Duan Wangchen took her to the Hou Gong's Mansion. He said that in a few years, after the affairs of the Song Palace, he would marry her.

With Duan Wangchen's protection, the maids in the mansion all served her as the future Mrs. Hou, and she has been living well in the Hou Mansion.

But now, he is married to Jiang Wanyin.

"Master Hou likes Miss so much, he will definitely marry Miss." Furou hid the tears in her eyes and said very firmly.

Hearing this, her eyes were covered with gloom, "But even if I marry, I'm just a concubine." ”

Furou wrung her sleeves and stopped talking.

For a whole day, Duan Wangchen did not appear in Zhuyun Garden.

Jiang Wanyin is the daughter of the Prime Minister's Mansion, Jiang Hechi is a high-ranking and powerful minister in the court, she married into the Hou Mansion, and now that he is injured, he must be well protected.

I think that at the beginning, everyone who was a noble son in Chang'an City wanted to climb her family.

But no one expected that with so many well-known valve disciples not chosen, Jiang Wanyin was going to marry Duan Wangchen, who was in decline in power in the court.

...

A few days later, in Changle Mansion.

"Childe, a few days ago, Jiang Wanyin, the daughter of Jiang Hechi, married Duan Wangchen of the Hou Mansion." Yu Feng bowed his head and told the man who was standing in the pavilion with his hands in his hands the news he had heard in the past two days.

The man had his back to him, dressed in a wide robe with white and blue sleeves, and his dark hair was tied up with a crescent-colored brocade band. Although his expression was faint, there was a brilliance in his eyes that could not be hidden.

His slender and warm fingers tightened slightly, he turned around, sat down on the bench, wrote a letter, and handed it to Yu Feng, "You go to the Hou Mansion." ”

"Yes."

After receiving the letter, Yu Feng left the pavilion.

For several days, Duan Wangchen stayed with Jiang Wanyin in the Qiuqian Garden, if it weren't for the servant who quietly told him about Song Qingge's scratches by fragments, he would still be in the dark.

"Ah Ge, how are your injuries?"

Taking advantage of Jiang Wanyin's rest, he came to her Zhuyun Garden.

Song Qingge turned her face away, unwilling to let her touch her hands, "It's none of your business whether my injury is good or bad, you just need to take care of Sister Wanyin!" ”

The words full of resentment were mixed with a bit of anger.

Duan Wangchen looked helpless, put his hands on her shoulders, and said softly, "I asked the waiter to bring some plasters, and you asked Furou to apply it for you, and there will be no scars left on the palm of this hand." ”

Then, he asked her to turn her face and lower her brows, "Your illness has not been cured, so you should not hold back your anger." Since you have a grudge against me in your heart, you will pour all your anger on me and beat me. A gentle tone fell from her forehead and brushed through her smooth skin.

Song Qingge still pursed her lips, sullen.

After a while, Duan Wangchen raised the corners of his lips, "Come, let my cousin take a look." He took her scratched hand, spread it to his mouth, and blew lightly.

"It's all right."

Seeing him with such a loving look, Song Qingge spoke softly.