At this moment, words were unnecessary. The time was right, a perfect fusion of passion. Inside the room, the candles were extinguished, and everything was left unsaid.
「The next day.」
The sky was just beginning to brighten as Zhao Feng opened his eyes, his head groggy and aching. Once his thoughts cleared, he turned his head, but the space beside him was empty. On the sheets was a faint red stain, its meaning self-evident.
Zhao Feng sat up abruptly, a look of longing on his face. "Has she really left?"
Last night, Wang Yan had given him everything. It would be a lie to say he hadn't been moved.
With a sweep of his eyes, Zhao Feng noticed a letter on the table, written on a piece of silk fabric. He immediately got up, walked over, and picked it up. It was from Wang Yan.
"Consider last night a fleeting dream.
"Born into a general's family, into the great nobility of Qin, my destiny has never been mine to control.
