Chen Fang grinned, clasping one hand over the other as she returned the gesture. Upon raising herself up, the red tassel of her hat swung to and fro, and not once did that grin falter.
“Does it, my lord? I can only wonder what that means. Oh, is it good? Is it bad? What kind of reputation has the son of Chen Gong earned?”
Puzzled by her correction, Zhang Liao lifted his head and moved out of the humble bow, dark eyes narrowed in both suspicion and confusion. Pursed lips parted as he took in a breath–just enough to respond swiftly and respectfully to the strategist’s descendant.
"Pardon my assumption,” the warrior began, pausing only for a beat before continuing again, “however my lord’s strategist has spoken a great deal about his daughter. Never once has he mentioned a son.” Another moment of hesitation, and then he began again.
“The reputation she has earned is a pleasant one.”
