Time quietly passed.
On the stage.
Zhang Jing stood still, a calm look in his eyes.
The next moment.
Seeming to sense something, he couldn't help but turn his head to look to one side.
In his line of sight.
In the wide-open middle of the stage.
A beautiful figure silently appeared, standing quietly in the air about three feet off the ground. A small silver bell at her round ankle was gently shaking, producing a faint, pleasant jingling sound.
In her ethereal, aloof demeanor, a few strands of majesty were mixed, along with a touch of playfulness.
One moment she was like a sprite walking between heaven and earth, and the next moment she seemed like a goddess coming into the world.
Varying and complex.
Just like the fog shrouding her face.
Layer upon layer, making it hard to see clearly.
As if sensing something.
Chang Jin turned her body and met Zhang Jing's gaze, nodding slightly.
Vaguely.
