Her cloud-like hair was in disarray, spreading across the bright yellow brocade like silken threads of passion.
Ji Qingwu blinked slowly, her senses returning. She looked toward the Emperor, her eyes washed clean by tears.
But the post-coital intimacy and tenderness she expected never came. Draped in his sleeping robe, Emperor Wu Su got straight out of bed.
'None of the moves I'd prepared had been of any use. I was like a delicate flower beaten down by an icy rain, utterly defenseless.'
Ji Qingwu rubbed her sore eyes. The dark, damp hair by her ears stuck uncomfortably to her face.
She brushed her hair back and tried to push herself into a sitting position.
But her back and legs ached so much she didn't dare exert herself.
Watching him walk into the outer chamber, his steps powerful and brisk, she pouted as her eyes welled up with tears again.
The pain was mixed with a sense of being wronged.
