“Starting today, you’re going to sweep the streets.” Shen Qingyi turned toward the sofa, her voice utterly devoid of warmth. “Just sweep the road outside the Shen family ancestral hall. Surely you can at least sweep a floor, right?”
Someone below let out a laugh, then quickly stifled it.
I looked at her. Honestly, she was gorgeous: about five-foot-seven, in a sharply tailored black skirt suit, her hair pinned up to reveal a long, graceful neck. It was just that her face was so cold, as if someone owed her a fortune.
“Did you hear me?” Sitting on the sofa with one leg crossed over the other, she accepted the tea a servant handed her without even looking up.
“I heard you,” I said. My voice was so calm it surprised even me.
Maybe I’d only just transmigrated and hadn’t adjusted to the situation I’d found myself in. Or maybe deep down, I just thought that sweeping a floor was no big deal. It was better than having my landlord hound me for rent in my old apartment.
Shen Qingyi glanced up at me, apparently not expecting me to agree so readily. She frowned and waved me away.
I turned to leave and ran straight into Zhao Mingxuan.
