He turned his head at the call, only to see the young girl behind him wearing a dark, displeased look and staring daggers at him. He let out an awkward laugh and scratched the back of his head. Presently, two youths came sprinting from the other side of the garden. They looked about the same age as the boy called Zongjing. The one running a little behind was half a head taller, plump and fair-skinned. As he ran, the soft flesh on his cheeks jiggled, and he wore an honest, simple expression. The boy in the pavilion hurried down to the stone steps, grinning as he watched the two run over. The youth who was in the lead called out: “Wang Zongjing! So you’re hiding here. We’ve been hunting all over for you. It’s nearly time—let’s go peek at Widow Liu from the north town as she’s—” His words were cut short. Wang Zongjing’s face suddenly paled. Then the lovely young girl stepped out from behind him, her features frosty as she fixed the speaker with a cold stare. The youth who’d been speaking was so startled he nearly choked. Quick-witted in the nick of time, he coughed sharply, skidded to a halt, and stammered: “W-washing clothes.”
