"Jing Xin, were people from ancient times always this arrogant about their local specialties?"
"Eh? What?" Jing Xin asked, confused.
"I mean the ancient mistresses. But fortunately, they are all blockheads without much brains. Otherwise, competing with them would really strain the brain and be exhausting."
"…" Jing Xin was still baffled.
Meanwhile, a certain lady was still lost in self-admiration, looking up to the sky and lamenting, "One possibility is that it's not that they have no brains, but that Sister... is really too clever. Aye, with Sister here, I fear others can hardly survive."
"…" Jing Xin looked exasperated.
Slowly, Qu Tan'er brushed off the walnut shell fragments from her clothes, twisted her belly, and stretched her limbs. "Let's go! Jing Xin, let's contend with the mistress." She walked out towards the Snow Courtyard.
The master and servant directly went to the front garden of Eighth Prince Manor.