After thinking about it, she moved and sat beside him, her clothes slightly brushing against his robe.
Finally, he turned to meet her eyes.
His eyes seemed to be dipped in thick ink, very deep.
"It's abominable, you know?" she laughed, her hand in the cloak pressed against her belly, where it was cold.
There was also a smile in his eyes, "If you die twice, you will be more afraid."
"Yes, I will be more afraid, and I don't want to die." She said seriously.
"Don't want to? You've never asked for mercy." He whispered, the corners of his eyes full of sarcasm.
"Is it useful?"
"It doesn't seem to be." Long Feili stopped his smile and his voice became low, "Tell me, what do you want."
"If someone dies, it's useless to ask for anything." The other hand gently held his, "Why do you want to grant me a wish?"
His hands were dry and warm, unlike hers, which were already sweaty.
She thought he would throw her hand away, but she didn't, but she didn't close her palm either. She greedily curled her hand smaller and fit tightly into his big palm.
His hands seemed to stiffen slightly.
"You don't need to know that."
She was disappointed for a while, but also, she couldn't tell what she wanted to hear from him.
"You don't have a deadline, if I never say that wish—" She chuckled softly, but stopped abruptly, realized something, and stared at him blankly.
Long Feili leaned back and leaned on the back pad of Panlong Cui Lacquer, without answering.
Xuanji closed her eyes, tears welling up in her eyes, the pain in her stomach and heart, she couldn't tell who was above whom.
She suddenly couldn't understand his heart. However, there is no time left.
She smiled softly.
"Your Majesty, Xuanji's last wish is to send it to you again, okay?"
Long Feili abruptly straightened up, clasped her chin with five fingers, and chuckled, "So you can't wait to die."
"Are you okay?" She raised her head and asked in a low voice.
"As you wish." He shook her off, his strength was so severe that she was caught off guard, his forehead hit the chariot, and blood flowed.
She smiled wryly, raised her sleeves and wiped it, he had already turned his side, his back was tall and straight, and his robes were wispy.
She wanted to remember.
He stood up and put his left hand on his bun. When he didn't go to the court, he rarely wore the golden crown. He still held the thing in his right hand. Jade Girdle.
The black and silky hair gushed down and spread out in her palm, and the splendor was like the light refracted by crystal beads, and slowly slipped down again.
What's on hand can finally come in handy.
She smiled and opened her palms.