The atmosphere was silent.
Su Liang watched the flame of the dragon and phoenix wedding candle, as thick as a child's arm, flickering, waiting for Ji Yueyan to speak again.
Gu Ling picked up the blood-stained golden hairpin from the ground and carefully examined the patterns on it.
Ji Yueyan looked at Su Liang, then at Gu Ling, propped herself up with her arms, and slowly sat in a seat opposite them.
As for the servants, they had all been shooed away by Duanmu Chen at the beginning of the incident.
"What are you looking at?" Ji Yueyan asked Su Liang.
Su Liang withdrew her gaze, her expression indifferent, "Moths flying into the fire."
Ji Yueyan glanced at the wedding candle subconsciously. There was only the flame and no moths. Even mosquitoes could hardly fly into this deep palace. Moths flying into the fire meant courting self-destruction... Her face changed suddenly, and she stared at Su Liang, "Moths... are you talking about me?"
