Xia Weibao's lips suddenly curved up. "Your Majesty."
"Mm."
"Tell me, when do you think this Peach Wood Comb will break?"
Lu Hualiang's gaze flickered lightly. "Never."
Xia Weibao lowered her head and gave a soft smile. "Mm, I believe you."
He had said that as long as his feelings for her remained, this Peach Wood Comb would never rot.
Never rot—this was his promise to her, that his feelings for her would never decay.
With a man this devoted, how could she bear to let him down?
Whether what Long Xuanye said was true or not, it was all in the past.
If it was true, then let her be the heartless one.
She wasn't a saint; she could not take care of everyone.
As long as she took care of the ones she cared about, that was enough.
Lu Hualiang glanced at the mirror, which reflected her face—clearly smiling, yet obviously lost in thought.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
Lu Hualiang pondered for two seconds. "Did Long Xuanye come to see you today?"
