How does Rong Heng manage to live under constant surveillance every day and still be so accustomed to it?
Gu Lan's eyes were complicated, but since it was very comfortable to be carried by Rong Heng, she relaxed, closed her eyes, her head dizzy and heavy.
The Yanjing City after the rain cleared, the sky was still gray, the air filled with the damp scent of earth and a hint of coolness.
Rong Heng carried Gu Lan, walking through the long vermilion corridors of the palace.
His boots sloshed across the wet white jade steps, some places still had knee-high water. He kept his body steady, trudging straight through, his light blue long robe already dirty beyond recognition.
"Gu Lan." Rong Heng spoke again, because it had always been Gu Lan who talked more. Now that she was silent, he felt indescribable and just wanted to break the silence.
"Hmm?" Gu Lan hummed softly, her voice heavy with nasal sound.
"Thank you for your hard work." He didn't know what else to say.
