"...."
As her words reached his ears, Xu Yuan's hand, hooked around the bend of her slender and shapely leg, slightly tightened, and a look of intensity converged in his eyes.
What does she mean... she'd agree to anything?
This truth Brother Xun spoke of, after every great battle, inevitably comes restocking.
Her slender figure softly descended, her bloodstained garment and red sleeve dancing together in the gentle breeze.
He looked at her:
"Oh? Anything at all?"
"...."
As she sheathed her sword and stored the severed head in the Sumeru Ring, Li Qingyan reached back with her hand, hooking it around his neck. The tender feelings in her heroic brows, akin to water, seemed as if they could be drawn out into a sparkling thread, and the fresh blood on her lips made her appear like a resplendent flower from the other shore:
"The palace always keeps its word, so what would my dear Prince Consort like to do to me?"
