Ji Qingwu truly couldn't tell the difference between the Emperor's affection and his love.
But Ji Qingwu was the type of person who would rather cut through a tangled mess than try to unravel it.
She was about to roughly wipe the tears from her face and banish any unwelcome weakness.
'Once she had her cry, it would be over.'
"Ah Wu, you've asked so many questions. I'm just wondering where to begin."
The man who had been silent finally spoke.
Ji Qingwu's hand fell from her face—or rather, it was roughly yanked away by Emperor Wu Su.
His actions were the very opposite of the gentleness in his words.
Frantic kisses rained down on her face, each one heavy and forceful, far more than Ji Qingwu could bear.
The sheer force of his kisses bent her backward until she was lying helplessly on the imperial desk.
He slid one arm behind her to keep her from hitting her head, while his free hand gripped hers, forbidding any movement.
