The entire restaurant was dead silent.
People stared in a horrified awe at the beautiful young master having a complete, table-flipping psychological meltdown in the middle of lunch.
And then, from the street below the pavilion, a sound broke the silence.
It was a laugh.
It wasn't a polite chuckle.
It was a booming, uncontrollable roar of pure hilarity.
Ji'an snapped her head toward the railing, breathing heavy, imaginary fire practically shooting from her nostrils.
Standing on the cobblestones below, having followed her from the estate because, of course, he had, since he was a terrifyingly competent stalker, was Lin Feng.
He was holding onto a wooden lamppost for support.
His shoulders were shaking violently.
His head was thrown back, and he was laughing so hard that tears were streaming down his battle-scarred face.
He didn't care about the rumors.
He didn't care about the scandalous gossip.
