"Why did you do this?" Ye Qing Lan shrank into the sedan chair and asked inexplicably.
Appearing like this at her wedding, was he such a naive person?
He Lian Cheng didn't give her a chance to back down. He stretched out his long arms, took her out of the sedan chair, hugged her shoulders tightly, and whispered in her ear. "What do you think? If I don't come here, are you planning to marry Murong Jing like this?"
Although this was a reproach, it sounded very intimate, and it also contained a bit of grievance, like a murmur between lovers. The warm breath blew on Ye Qing Lan's earlobe, itching and numbness, which made her heart, which had always been known for being cold, tremble involuntarily.
She took a deep breath, barely calmed herself down, and said coldly. "I don't think it has anything to do with you."
