"Release her."
In the flower garden, a composed and intellectual woman clad in a Confucian robe stood between the young Confucian scholar and the girl with the fox-like eyes, yet the latter two's hands were still joined.
At this moment, Zhu Yourong turned her head and softly spoke to Zhao Rong, who was holding onto the tearful fox demon without letting go.
Zhao Rong looked down, pursing his lips silently, tilting his head slightly, and frowning at her.
Zhu Yourong's gentle and elegant face remained calm and collected. Her exquisite chin lifted slightly to meet his gaze.
The two, often in sync with each other's thoughts and feelings, silently held each other's gaze for a while.
Zhao Rong pursed his lips and averted his gaze, the strength in his hand gradually lessening.
The little fox demon covered her mouth and took the opportunity to withdraw her hand.
