"Furong, mind your words from now on." Guo Jing's tone had softened, but the sternness in his brow remained.

Guo Furong secretly exhaled in relief and quickly replied, "I'll remember, Father."

Footsteps approached from nearby as Ke Zhen'e led Guo Furong through the grove.

The moment Guo Furong spotted Huang Rong, she rushed into her mother's arms, cooing like a spoiled child.

As she prattled on with trivial chatter, Guo Jing's frown deepened.

Afraid of her father's reprimand, Guo Furong's eyes darted around before suddenly pointing at Yang Guo. "Hey, you! Go pick some flowers to make me a wreath!" She glimpsed his soiled sleeves and shabby clothes, curling her lip in disdain. "Never mind. You're filthy. You'd just stink up the flowers."

Guo Jing's expression darkened instantly.

But Yang Guo merely lowered his head, forcing a weak smile. "You're right. I am dirty. The flowers would get dirty too. If I soiled your new dress, you'd be cross with me again."

As he spoke, he took two steps back, his fingers unconsciously plucking at his frayed hem. His eyes reddened slightly, the very picture of a pitiful, mistreated boy.

In the original tale, Yang Guo would have been deeply wounded by Guo Furong's words—sensitive and insecure. But this Yang Guo was no longer that helpless youth who took abuse meekly.

Dealing with a spoiled, simple-minded young mistress like Guo Furong required neither defiance nor submission.

Yang Guo studied the girl before him. She wore a delicate green silk dress, pearls gleaming at her throat, her skin so fair it seemed one could pinch water from it. Her almond-shaped eyes sparkled with mischief beneath arched willow-leaf brows.

'Pretty enough,' he mused inwardly, amused. 'Just not very bright.' Such naive girls were always the most entertaining to tease, reminding him of simpler days.

"At least you know your place," Guo Furong scoffed, tilting her chin up proudly, completely missing the sarcasm lacing his words.

Huang Rong sighed inwardly. Her daughter had inherited none of her wit—a beautiful fool through and through.

She shot Yang Guo a knowing glance, recognizing how his carefully chosen words would ignite Guo Jing's temper.

Sure enough, Guo Jing misinterpreted Yang Guo's feigned meekness as habitual cowardice. His fury erupted instantly.