Qin Xiaolan remarked admiringly from the side, "No wonder my sister was the top scholar. She's even reading on her wedding day. That's incredible."
Qin Jiao smiled faintly.
It was Su Yun who sighed at her side. "I never would've guessed Shen Yi's aunt was so formidable. It's a good thing she's not in the country."
The "aunt" Su Yun mentioned was Zheng Zhuli, the woman who had just nearly reduced Li Xiaomei to tears.
Qin Jiao had dealt with Zheng Zhuli in her past life as well. She was, indeed, a formidable woman. She would often tell Qin Jiao, 'You're too much of a pushover. This is no way to live. How can two young people like you live with such a lack of passion?'
Back then, Qin Jiao had already resigned herself to just getting by. She'd argued that she had seen how it was for many parents—that over time, love turned into familial affection. Where was all this passion supposed to come from?
