Xiao Tengwan’s heart was empty because it realized that Yun chujiu already had no pulse.
What did the lack of a pulse mean? It meant that she was dead.
Her enemy was dead, but her main body was unharmed. She was free!
But why was she not happy?
Was it because no one would draw her portrait in the future? Was it because no one would be able to share the script with it in the future?
Why did it feel so bad? It was even worse than when its own leaves were wilting?
At some point in time, some liquid dripped down from the leaves of Xiao Tengwan, wetting Yun Chujiu’s wrist.
The liquid seeped into Yun Chujiu’s skin at a speed visible to the naked eye. In a split second, Yun Chujiu opened her eyes.
Xiao Tengwan, who was feeling sorrowful, cried out, “Oh my god, it’s a corpse!”!
Yun Chujiu’s eyes were somewhat empty. Under di Beiming’s call, they gradually became focused, but she did not speak.
After a long while, she said, “Male god, I seem to know who I am.”
