Zhao Yan reached out, his voice laced with frustration and desperation.
"Hua Jing."
But Hua Jing didn't stop.
Her fists were clenched tightly, her face twisted in a mix of disbelief and outright disgust as she stomped forward. She didn't want to hear another word from him. Not tonight. Not ever, if she could help it.
And yet, Zhao Yan persisted, trailing behind her like an unwanted shadow.
"Hua Jing, wait."
"Go away."
"Listen to me."
"I don't want to!"
From afar, the scene was ridiculous.
A noble young master chasing after a retreating figure, their robes swaying in the night breeze, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a blade. If one didn't know better, it almost looked like a bickering couple.
Which was exactly what the palace guards at the gate thought.
The two stationed guards exchanged looks, one raising an eyebrow.
"What are those two cut sleeves doing running around so deep into the night?" he muttered.
