The first rays of the morning sun finally spilled down, landing on Ye Chutang's face and highlighting her serene, composed expression.
She sat with her back ramrod straight, her eyes lowered to the book in her hands. She was like a simple, elegant fine-brush painting.
Ye Yunfeng came to her side and asked curiously, "Sis, you've been looking at this book for a while. Have you figured anything out?"
Ye Chutang didn't answer right away. Her slender, pale fingertips pressed against one of the pages, rubbing it gently.
Then, she raised the book, turning it to that page and holding it up to the sunlight.
Compared to the one she'd bought from the bookshop, the one she now held was very different.
The most obvious difference was the paper. It wasn't light or thin, and the corners seemed uneven, making the entire book feel much cruder.
'Ye Heng is obsessed with keeping up appearances. Why would he read such a crudely printed book?'
