Feng Yun was completely numb, her body rattled by the horse's gallop, her legs and hips feeling as though they no longer belonged to her.
A river lay ahead. She didn't know where she had ridden to, but there was no path forward—only the silhouette of a mounted figure standing silently by the water.
She had no idea how long he had been waiting, cloaked in coldness.
The faint glimmer of light fell into his eyes, reflecting upon the water. In the moonlight, he radiated a ghostly, chilling sheen, infused with a complex and profound emotion—was it anticipation, resolve, or an indescribable tenderness?
Feng Yun felt as though she had fallen into an icy abyss.
The air around her seemed frozen.
"Yaoyao."
Wen Xingsu stood shrouded in icy coldness, facing her from afar, as if drawn by some invisible force, slowly approaching.
Feng Yun hesitated only for a split second and abruptly turned her horse to flee...
