"Such a pity about Miss Qingya, so young and already gone!"

Xia Qian followed behind Xia Chen, holding a fried dough stick in one hand and soy milk in the other, sighing as he spoke.

Being one of the three who accompanied Xia Chen to Qingya Pavilion that day, Xia Qian had seen Qingya. Upon hearing the news of her death, he couldn't help but feel a sense of regret.

Xia Chen took a bite of the bun in his hand without turning his head, the savory juices bursting on his taste buds.