Xu Ruotong turned around abruptly.
Two figures had appeared behind her without her noticing.
A young man sat in a wheelchair, his presence subtle yet overpowering.
An umbrella hovered above him, partly veiling his face and casting a shadow that concealed all but his lips and a frosty arc of his jawline.
Feng San held the umbrella, his eyes coldly fixed on Xu Ruotong.
Stunned, Xu Ruotong took a few steps back, nearly losing her balance. "Who...who are you?"
Finally steadying herself, she bristled, "Why are you hiding your face? Are you ashamed to be seen?"
"A joke," Feng San retorted coldly, "Is my master's face something you're qualified to gaze upon? What do you take yourself for?"
Fear consumed Xu Ruotong, sending cold sweat trickling down her spine.
The duo spoke with an antiquated elegance, and despite their modest attire, they radiated an unmistakable nobility. They could only be scions of a prestigious family.