Before she could finish speaking, the man reached out his hand to her.
Xia Ningxing's petite and slender body, soft as a willow branch, fell into the man's broad and warm embrace.
"Then come and warm me up, will you?" he said.
Under the cold moonlight, his eyes were filled with tenderness.
Xia Ningxing ignored his flirtation and looked into his eyes, asking, "Are you feeling sad?"
She reached out her hand, caressing his slightly cold face.
Although they had not been together for long, she was very sensitive to his emotions.
"What do I have to be sad about?" he retorted, his eyes shadowy.
He didn't say it, but Xia Ningxing said it for him: "You're obviously sad about the emperor. In your heart, besides hating him, you also long for his care and affection. Unfortunately, even until his death, he never gave you these."
"He verbally expresses his debt to you, but in reality, he feels no guilt at all."
"You are sad about these two things."
