"Diao Bin, you..." Even the always composed Tang Yin was stunned, and it was already too late to stop her.
Which woman does not cherish beauty? Which woman would willingly bear white hair? Tang Yin had always known the bitterness in his sister's heart, so he didn't want Diao Bin to show herself in public, not because he feared disgrace or anything, but because he feared that the same gaze from others would hurt her.
And at that moment, every official in the court was staring at Diao Bin's white hair—some with expressions of surprise, some with sorrow and sympathy, and even some looked at Diao Bin as if watching a monster. Tang Yin, sitting high above on the Dragon Throne, saw it all clearly, and the stoicism on his sister's face, and the hidden pain in her eyes, only stabbed more painfully into his own.
