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Yao Jue helped Li Yuan to his feet, her eyes wet.
Cui Huayin approached.
“My lady,” Yao Jue whispered.
“Just call me Huayin,” Cui Huayin said lightly. “We’re still sisters; nothing changes.”
She laid a slender hand on Li Yuan’s white hair, a trace of sorrow in her eyes; then she smiled with practiced grace. “Congratulations, Husband.”
Jing Shuixiang arrived, and Ping'an—still howling like a privileged child in mourning—trailed behind.
“We should go home,” Li Yuan said weakly.
Yet relief and happiness lit his features. “It’s a celebration. Let’s fry up a few more dishes.
“Ping'an, share a drink with your old man. You foolish boy, you give me no end of worry.”
“O-okay, Dad,”...
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