Soft petals of rain drifted through the air, catching the glow of the lanterns like falling stars.
The world around them had blurred into nothingness—there was no grand banquet, no watching eyes, no burdens of the past pressing against their chests.
It was just the two of them.
Zhao Yan, standing close, his golden eyes holding hers with unwavering intensity. His warm hands, still cradling her face with a tenderness she had never expected.
And Hua Jing, frozen beneath his touch, feeling the unrelenting tremble in her heart.
She had spent years convincing herself that she hated him.
Years running from the emotions that now threatened to consume her whole.
But in this moment, there was nowhere left to run.
The rain fell in delicate streams, misting the air around them. A single raindrop landed on Zhao Yan's cheek, tracing a slow path down his face, disappearing into the fine fabric of his robes.
Hua Jing couldn't look away.
How had they come to this?
