Han Chun was leaning at the pavilion as he smoked. He was wearing a hemp mourning shirt, but it didn’t stop him from looking handsome, though his expression was grim. When he saw her coming in, guilt flashed in his eyes imperceptibly, then he went up to her. “Oh, why did you come here?” He didn’t address her by her name or title.
Mu Qiao looked at him. “Where’s your mother?” She was angry at both Mo Han and Mrs. Mo. One wanted to be filial, while the other wanted to be selfish, but none thought about her and her daughter.
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