But in the heart of this man with no great ambitions, what more could he possibly want?
"Interesting." Qin Qingluo let out a hum through her nose, unclear whether she was mocking his arrogance or suppressing some kind of excitement.
She tilted her head back and drained the wine in her cup; the burning taste rolled down her throat, as if it also stoked that little flame in her heart.
"What do you want?" She asked bluntly, her gaze like a blade. "You, Chen Yi, never do a losing trade. To penetrate Western Jin and take on such a perilous task—what is it you want?"
After all, the two were already husband and wife; there was no need for formalities.
Even that Chrysanthemum Tea which the female crown feared as though it were viper and scorpion—if he were willing to risk his life, it would not be out of the question.
Thinking of this seemed to brush against some long-buried disgrace; from the tailbone upward, the tall body of the Princess tensed with a faint constriction.
