Mu Qianya naturally couldn't keep up with their pace, but when she looked down at her shoulder, she found it left with a lingering warmth, extremely scorching.
The warmth of a man's palm.
He had just said, he trusts her.
In Mu Qianya's heart, a warm current surged forth.
She tugged at her lips, who says assassins have no emotions?
Xiao Yu arrived at the scene of the incident when the night was at its darkest, the daylight was hidden without a trace, the sky void of even a sliver of starlight, gray and despair-inducing.
Sitting in his wheelchair, seeing the ash and ruin, the servants of the Marquis's Manor were shivering and crying on the side, his heart felt as if it was split by a furious lightning strike, being crushed and spread piece by piece.
He forcefully stood up and stumbled towards the ruins, unable to walk steadily without having taken his medicine.
Chui Ying, following behind him, supported him twice, reminding, "Master, you cannot walk."
"Get lost!"
