Feng Yun entered to find Xiao Cheng sitting by the wooden table in the guest hall, drinking.
He didn't know how long he had been sitting there, two wine pots already emptied.
It seemed as though the wine had indulged his thoughts, so different was tonight's Xiao Cheng from the cold, distant, and unapproachable Qi Jun Feng Yun remembered.
She walked somewhat slowly.
Xiao Cheng watched her.
She also watched Xiao Cheng.
There were no barriers between them, their gazes starkly exposed.
Those of past lives and this life filled their minds and eyes, yet the other's feelings remained inscrutable...
Xiao Cheng stared at her pale face, like a peach blossom blooming at the start of spring, delicate and dripping with charm, and her clear, black eyes, deep as a starry autumn night...
Still so beautiful.
No, more beautiful than before.
So beautiful as to defy all description.
"Ayun," his voice was slow.
A fire seemed to blaze within him.
No one knew how long he had thought of her.
