Suddenly, Yan Xun felt a little nervous. He took his seat beside Nalan Hongye, but had the intention of avoiding her. Frowning, he said, "Don't poke me."
Nalan Hongye raised her eyebrows in reply. "You've been on the battlefield before. Are you scared of such a small needle?"
Yan Xun remained silent and skeptical towards her craftsmanship as he continued to frown. However, he realized that she was actually good at embroidery as she used her fingers to seemingly bring the needle to life.
She was frail. From Yan Xun's point of view, he could only see a fair, white neck. As the sunlight shone on her body, giving off a serene aura, the smell of medicinal herbs lingered around the room. The sand in the timekeeping pot slid to the base, grain by grain. The rustling sounds of the needle brushing through the clothes could seemingly be heard.
