No one could tell, but just a moment earlier, someone was holding a dagger against Chen Hongru's forehead.
Chen Hongru was also taken aback.
It had been many years since anyone had dared to wield a knife in front of him.
The icy sharpness of the dagger still pulsated between Chen Hongru's brows.
The tea was of the finest Xuefeng Tea, and Ye Lingyue's lips, nurtured by the waters and tea leaves of Hong Meng Heaven, couldn't find anything to fault.
Just like the Beiqing Great Power sitting a few steps away, he was flawless too.
Before coming, Ye Lingyue thought that Chen Hongru, like other elusive Great Powers, would be unapproachable or repulsive.
But now, sitting in front of her, the man was as gentle as jade.
His gentleness was different from Feng Xun's—tempered by the years without any sharp edges, sophisticated and smooth.
He was very young, yet seemed incredibly old.
