Three years ago, Cong Ge was gravely injured while saving her. At the time, she was temporarily blinded and couldn't see what was happening. After all, they had served each other for many years, and Yan Wanqing, anxious at heart, walked towards the outside of the tent.
Just as she lifted the curtain.
Two cold, long spears intersected, blocking her way.
"The emperor orders that Her Highness is to reflect in solitude within these quarters and not go out," said the guard, devoid of emotion.
Apparently, she had been locked away.
A hint of mockery flashed through Yan Wanqing's eyes.
Through the cold spears, Cong Ge couldn't resist stepping forward, "Miss..."
After three years apart, her mistress had become so thin, and her skin was no longer as delicate as before. However, she now exhibited the healthy beauty of a normal person, no longer the sickly figure from the years she was recuperating in the capital.
Thinking of this, Cong Ge's eyes moistened.
