At this moment, the table in front of him, where Zhao Rong had just been 'casually touched' by the young maid, he was struggling to maintain his normally composed expression.
"Hey, hey, hey, you little brat, be more careful, will you?"
"Me, the domineering young master embracing two fairies, Zhao Ziyu, being patted on the head by a little maid like you!"
He turned around with an itch in his teeth and gave her a 'serious warning' look: Zhao Qian'er, you've lost your abdominal muscles, don't think about touching this master for the next few days.
However, what puzzled Zhao Rong was that this time, Qian'er wasn't as mischievous as before, didn't glare back at him, or engage in a staring contest as they used to.
In his field of vision, the peach-blossom eyes of the young maid gazed at him, the corners of her eyes slightly glistening, her lips faintly upturned, lost in thought on her little face, with no indication of what she was thinking.
