A Song of Clear Skies in the Southern Lane

In the twentieth year of the Qiyuan era, autumn winds sighed and distant mountains faintly took on human shapes.

I was leisurely listening to a tune, pretending not to notice the gloomy look on Murong Nanmo’s face.

“Feng Wanqing, you...” He swept away with a flick of his sleeve.

From the moment we first met, I knew there was something wrong with his head. Otherwise, why would he always pick on me?

We met at five and reunited at twelve. It seemed I was destined to keep running into this troublesome nemesis!

“Miss, put that bowl down! The prince is here again,” Xia Tao cried, hurrying inside.

They say fighting is affection and scolding is love. When love reaches its limit, you kick each other. These two little nemeses bicker and butt heads at every turn.