The middle-aged woman let out a scream, almost fainting, as the surrounding maidservants hurriedly patted the lady's chest to revive her. The woman gasped, looking at the little maidservant in front of her with a ghostly expression, her eyes rolled back, and she almost fainted again. But the young maidservant burst into tears, stammering as she sobbed:
"It's not my fault, it's the young lady who told me to do it."
This little girl, with a unique desert ethnicity complexion, was wearing pajamas that completely disagreed with her identity—those were Lavali's clothes—and was sitting on the luxurious big bed of the City Lord's daughter, her small body almost engulfed by the snow-white fluffy sheets and velvet blanket, pitiful and helpless like a small animal.
Upon hearing the latter's cries, the plump lady finally fully regained consciousness, glaring at the latter fiercely, shrieking: "Where is the young lady?"
