The change in his expression was instant. The smirk on his face was gone, and anger replaced the cunning in his eyes. He strode toward her, gripping her arm with a strength that bordered on painful.
"Stop talking," he snapped. "I don't want to hear this again. You are mine. Do you understand? You belong to me, Qingqing!"
His eyes burned with wildness, desperation, and stubbornness to the point of madness.
"Even if I must spend the rest of my life with your hatred, I will. Even if I must spend a hundred years chasing your love, I will. But I will never—never—give you to another man."
"Give me?" Xia Yuqing's laugh came out sharp and bitter. "I am not an object you can hand over, Long Mingze. I'm not something you own. I am a person with feelings and emotions."
"You're right," he whispered, his gaze intense. "You're not a thing. You are my empress. Mine. Your feelings, your emotions... they should be for me, not for some other man."
