How have you been since we last met?
The silent greeting was like a thunderclap in her heart.
She had fantasized many times about her reunion with Yuan Zhaoxu. Perhaps it would be at some festival, perhaps it would be at some noble's banquet, perhaps it would be in another country. But she had never imagined that they would meet again on the night of the Taiyuan Palace coup. Moreover, when they met, he would be standing beside her enemy, and her knife pointed at his heart.
Even with her knife pointed at his heart, he still smiled and greeted her warmly.
She froze on the horse's head, her body flipping over. Her knife was still shining, but her heart had strangely softened.
Especially when she could read his lips.
Especially when Yuan Zhaoxu's chest suddenly moved, and a snow-white head popped out. Its black eyes turned, and when it saw the knife, it quickly plucked out a strand of hair to block it.
Did it think that the hair on its butt was Gan Jiang or Mo Xie's famous sword?
Suddenly, Meng Fuyao wanted to laugh, but before she could, she wanted to cry. In the end, she did not laugh or cry. Instead, she let out her anger and fell down.
She cursed inwardly. No matter what, Yuan Zhaoxu was now Qi Xunyi's helper. If she failed to snatch the horse, Yun Hen would definitely not escape alone. She was the one who harmed him.
She fell into a warm chest. The skin exposed outside his collar was as smooth as his long satin robe, and carried a strange fragrance. The skin on the back of her neck rubbed against his chest, and she felt as if her entire body was on fire.
The flames circled around his body, but he didn't feel any burning pain. He only felt warm and illusory, as if he was immersed in a warm hot spring. From his fingers to his toes, he felt relaxed. This night of thrills and hardships seemed to be instantly folded and smoothed by gentleness, and then swept away by the wind.
The breath of the man behind her was warm and mellow like a beautiful dream, or perhaps it was the spring breeze from the Xuanyuan Kingdom, or the fragrant green water rippling in the most beautiful lotus pond in Taiyuan. It was soft, charming, and everywhere.
His lips were so close to her that they brushed against her ear from time to time as the horse moved. His hot breath brushed against her cheek, soft and moist like a delicate kiss. Fuyao stiffened her back, not daring to move. Her whole body softened inch by inch, turning into cotton, fog, and a net. She was all silk, both horizontally and vertically.
This moment was like the flash of a star, but this moment felt like a thousand years.
In her daze, she heard that person's voice whisper in her ear. There was a faint smile in his voice. Hearing that smile, she felt as if the flowers of the four seasons had bloomed in an instant.
"I really want to kiss you …"
She shuddered and wondered if his voice had been cursed as well. These were simple words, but when they came out of his mouth, it was as if every word had a golden hook attached to it, hooking the listener's heart.
She touched her face. It seemed to be burning too.
The voice paused, and when it sounded again, there was a hint of regret in it.
"It's a pity … I can't now."
As soon as she finished her sentence, she felt an emptiness behind her. The source of warmth suddenly dissipated, causing her heart to feel empty. She quickly turned around and saw the man in loose sleeves gliding backward, giving way to the horse he was riding.
He landed on the ground and flipped over like a flying cloud, a bow already in his hand.
The vermilion bowstring was deep black, and the iron arrowhead was faintly glowing. He chuckled, his fingers moving swiftly as he lightly nocked an arrow and pulled the bow into a full moon shape. Yan Lie's face was full of shock, Qi Xunyi's astonishment at being thrown off his horse, and the sound of footsteps from the black mass of guards chasing after him.
It was pointed at Fuyao.
…
The arrow had never felt so cold before.
Fuyao turned around on her horse and stared blankly at the arrow that was staring at her like a hawk, as well as the graceful and noble man who had nocked an arrow.
At that moment, the air suddenly became quiet, so quiet that one could only hear the sound of burning torches and the stifled breathing due to nervousness. In the firelight, the woman turned around. Her face was ordinary, but her gaze was as clear as the unmelted snow on the distant mountains. Little by little, her gaze was filled with surprise, doubt, shock, and incomprehension … There were thousands of things she wanted to say, but couldn't.
Such a complicated and indescribable gaze struck the hearts of the crowd like a heavy hammer. For a moment, everyone forgot to move.
Only the man who was looking at him was still smiling faintly, unmoved. His hand holding the bow was as steady as a mountain. The bowstring was pulled to its fullest, and it creaked under his palm, sounding like a deep sigh.
His fingers moved back inch by inch. The arrow was nocked on the bowstring, ready to be released!
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