Jing Yiren thought again of that dream, in which she and the Emperor had been embraced in a coffin for three thousand years.
Even though it was just a dream, it lingered in her mind.
"Emperor, do you like me?"
"..." As soon as Jing Yiren spoke, the Emperor's eyes sharply narrowed, his throat moved up and down, as if restraining something.
There was no sound from him for a long while.
After a long time, he reached out and brushed the hair from Jing Yiren's face.
"Yes, I do! Yiren is so obedient, so cute and beautiful, who wouldn't like her!"
"..." Hearing this answer, Jing Yiren seemed somewhat disappointed.
Pouting her lips.
"I'm not talking about that kind of liking! Do you remember King Qiu?"
"..."
"When I come of age next year, he will come to marry me. Would you really let me go?"
"..." After several seconds of silence, the Emperor replied, "As long as you want!"
Jing Yiren felt surprisingly choked up by his response.
