Autumn rain falls, withered leaves rustling.
Feeling the warmth from the woman's gentle touch, Xu Yuan suddenly smiled, but then gradually fell silent, withdrawing his hand.
Li Qingyan was right.
Rather than confiding, he preferred burying everything inside, or perhaps... even if he wanted to speak, he had no idea where to begin.
Silently following the imperial corridor behind the Golden Throne Hall, listening to the rain, Li Qingyan did not urge him, merely walking quietly by his side, but Xu Yuan's heart grew restless.
He instinctively wanted to blame this Wrapped Chest Princess for bringing up the matter, yet deep down he knew that the nameless agitation was anger at himself, for he still did not understand what the woman who died for him meant to him...
In every sense.
Li Junwu's death made him think a lot about past things he had subconsciously ignored.
