Zhou Cangyan wrapped his arms around the person in his embrace. Her frame was small; he felt as if the slightest pressure would break her bones.
His thoughts drifted back to that night in the wooden cabin.
Halfway up the mountain, on a stormy night, with no one else in sight.
She had been like a delicate, shattered flower, her petals roughly crushed into a sticky nectar.
Zhou Cangyan could still remember the feeling of that nectar coating his hands...
His eyes suddenly turned dark and inscrutable.
Once Song Lianhe came to her senses, she immediately tried to pull away. "Many thanks, Prince Qing."
In front of the Empress, she had to maintain perfect etiquette.
Zhou Cangyan just grunted in acknowledgment, but the large hand supporting the small of her back didn't move. The heat of his palm seeped through two layers of fabric, a constant warmth that felt like it would burn right through her.
The sight of the two of them standing together was surprisingly pleasing to the eye.
