As the door slowly opened, Qing Yueqiu's eyes landed on the face of her master, Pei Yuhang.
His face, usually so cold, handsome, and composed, now held a suggestive flush.
Even his eyes, normally so clear and distinct, had become alluring and brimming with passion.
Seeing this, Qing Yueqiu's heart clenched. It felt as if something was caught in her throat, and her voice dropped unconsciously.
"Ma… Master… what are you doing in Sister Lin's room?"
"Are… are you playing chess?"
She was no longer that ignorant and naive young girl. Under Pei Yuhang's careful guidance, she had come to understand many things.
Now, looking at her master's strange expression, an uneasy suspicion began to form. It was as if an invisible hand was plucking at a sensitive string deep inside her, filling the young woman with dread.
But faced with her most beloved master, she didn't dare to speak bluntly.
