"A-Yuan, what's the matter?" Zhao Ling sat up and looked at him and asked aloud.
She told herself that she could be considered a success in psychology, but she still couldn't understand the mood of the moody man in front of her.
More than two months ago, on the night that the she had decided to go to war on his behalf, she had promised him that when the war at Jinyangguan was over and he was cured of the cold poison, she proposed to him at that time. She remembered that he was full of joy at the time, why was he now gloomy when she offered to get married?
Meng Yuan raised his hand, his fingertips caressed her creamy cheeks, and under the slim eyelashes, a pair of handsome eyes showed deep guilt and resentment, he murmured: "Ling'er, why didn't you let me? Meeting you at the best time..."
