When Zhao Xuanying followed Yang Fan out of the council hall, she was a little shy. After all, that had just happened in front of so many people; even though she was an ice‑cold beauty, an ice‑cold beauty getting shy only drew more attention.
And this shy state didn't calm down even after they'd entered the secret chamber and about the time of a stick of incense had passed.
"Xuanyin."
Yang Fan looked at Zhao Xuanying's little flushed face with amusement, feeling a bit stirred inside, but he knew he still had to suppress that excitement.
"Mm." Zhao Xuanying replied with a tiny "mm," her voice as soft as a mosquito's.
Yang Fan let out a long breath, reached out and pulled Zhao Xuanying into his arms. After a long silence, he finally said:
"Xuanyin, you should know what this means."
