"Teng Yuxuan, you are not worthy of me. When Yun Yan said this, she didn't even raise her head. He stood at the door of Teng's embroidery workshop, and the carriage inlaid with gold and jade behind him blocked the entire Donghua Street. The wind in early spring picked up the dead leaves on the ground and swept across the threshold. The crooked "Teng's Jinxiu" sign. The needle in Teng Yuxuan's hand paused. She was squatting by the threshold, sewing the cuffs of an old dress for her neighbor Aunt Wang. The needle tip was pulled tight and the cuffs were wrinkled. Cui'er, the maid next to Yun Yan, shouted in a high voice, "My young master said you are not worthy!" "The neighbors gathered around. Aunt Liu, who sold bean curd, was standing in front of the stall with a bowl in her hands. Shopkeeper Zhang from the cloth shop next door leaned out half of his body, and several children who were playing in the mud at the entrance of the alley ran over. Teng Yuxuan slowly stood up.
