I hope Young Master is fine and everything is alright.
Gazing at the night outside the window, she moved her burnt finger to her face, gently placing it on her lips—this was the wound that Young Master had personally bandaged for her.
A surge of warmth filled her heart. She had never seen such a Young Master before. The usually indifferent Young Master, when cleaning her wound, tried his best not to hurt her. That gentle action made her heart warm.
The feelings between her and Young Master were not of a romantic relationship, but rather as Young Master had said, a transaction of giving and taking. It was a transaction; she must not indulge in foolish fantasies, she mustn't.
She was not a match for Young Master at all. No matter how remarkable she was, she could never be worthy of him. He was a king, and she could only be a maid.
