When I recalled the events at the wedding, I rubbed my head, threw on some clothes, and got out of bed.

Helen, the maid of the Brooks Family, was massaging her legs. Seeing me rise, she hurriedly asked if I wanted anything to eat.

I had seen her a few times before, back when my sister was around at the Brooks Family.

In her forties or fifties, with sharp eyes and a face full of malice.

I remembered what my sister once told me and looked at her with a sharper gaze.

"I drank too much yesterday. Helen, could you make me some chicken soup?"

Helen's expression turned troubled.

"Madam,...