Qingqiu walked in from afar.
Her white clothes were as white as snow, her long hair as black as ink, and her steps were so light it seemed to be walking on the wind.
He looked even more energetic than seven days ago; his complexion had regained its rosy glow, and his eyes had regained their sharpness.
She looked at Chen Ping, then at Jiang Xuelan beside him, a playful smile flashing in her fox-like eyes.
“I thought you wouldn’t come back.” She said, but there was no reproach in her tone.
Chen Ping smiled. “I promised His Majesty, and I will definitely keep it.”
Qingqiu’s gaze lingered on Jiang Xuelan for a moment.
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