Yue Wuhen was adorned with silver ornaments, dressed in a purple robe, tall and graceful, with a visage as immaculate as snow, exquisite beyond compare.
His already stunning appearance, under the pouring moonlight, was as beautiful as the moon itself, more akin to the faint drizzle of spring, leaving onlookers entranced.
He stood there quietly, like a spread ink painting, exuding an impressionistic beauty.
He looked at Su Muyao, his light purple eyes gleaming with a gentle smile, like snow melting in spring.
So pure, gentle, and beautiful.
With the temperament of a pine crane, carrying a gentle and accommodating aura.
"Wife."
Even his voice was so clear and gentle.
Su Muyao heard the voice and at the sudden sight of Yue Wuhen, thought it was an illusion.
But upon hearing his voice, Su Muyao realized it was not an illusion, it was real.
She put down the chopsticks in her hand, quickly got up, came before Yue Wuhen, her eyes turning red, "Wuhen, is it really you?"
