Xue Yinzhou said so, but after coaxing Shen Tang to sleep peacefully, he changed his mind.
He didn't leave at all, instead lying on his side, holding Shen Tang in his arms, his chin resting in her hair, his snake tail gently coiling around her waist—a gesture both possessive and protective.
Xue Yinzhou's deep gaze fell on the tired and sleeping face of the female, his fingers as slender as jade gently brushing the hair by her ear. The rebel army outside was still watching covetously; how could he rest easy leaving her alone here?
Xue Yinzhou didn't care whether others lived or died.
To him, death was nothing rare.
If it weren't for her existence in this boring world, he would have long sought death.
His only attachment left in life was her.
Whether Xiao Jin and the others lived or died had nothing to do with him.
