Ji Qingwu had stopped crying by now. Her eyelashes were still damp at the roots, making her eyes look as though they had just been washed with water.
They were like the surface of a lake after the rain—vast, misty, and shimmering.
She stared at the Emperor's robes, trying to find the spot her tears had supposedly dampened, but she couldn't see it.
'Besides, there was still some distance between us just now. We weren't even hugging. How could my tears have gotten on him?'
'Where on earth did they land? Why can't I see it?'
"What are you muttering about me in your head?" Emperor Wu Su's voice was gentle, no longer as cold as when he had questioned her. In fact, it seemed to hold a hint of amusement.
A great weight was finally lifted from Ji Qingwu's heart.
She had confessed her past deeds, but it hadn't brought about the cataclysm she'd expected. Instead, the man before her had received her confession gently, only to set it aside with nonchalance.
