When she danced, she was a completely different person—passionate.
Her dance was light, joyful, lively, and agile, with every movement expressing a depth of emotion. Her performance depicted the full ebb and flow of feeling, with every detail connecting perfectly.
Every single frame was a work of art, beautiful enough to be a wallpaper.
Xue Yang could have used his photography skills to capture this perfect version of her and admire it later at his leisure. However, he resisted. An image of her this unique was something to be imprinted in his mind, for his eyes only. He had to eliminate any possibility of it leaking out.
In that moment, Xue Yang suddenly understood the feeling of an ancient emperor who, despite having a harem of three thousand, favored only one. With a concubine of such dazzling talent and beauty, all others were merely common rouge and powder. The choice between the empire and the beauty was clear as day.
