When Ning Xuan looked up and saw Ying Yaoshi, her breath hitched.
Standing against the light, the man's shoulders were as straight as a sword's edge. His crisp, dark military uniform starkly accentuated his eye-catching inverted-triangle physique: broad shoulders and a narrow waist.
A soaring serpent embroidered with gold thread coiled on his cuffs. Its scales glinted coldly in the light, and its vertical golden pupils were bloodthirsty and fierce, as if ready to devour someone.
Ying Yaoshi's chiseled face had shed its casual air. Beneath his sharp brows, his eyes were cold and stern, the depths of his pupils seeming to hold shards of ice.
He raised a hand to adjust his cuff and looked over at Ning Xuan.
"Xuanyuan, I understand what you were saying. Just save me some face in front of others, and we can follow your rules the rest of the time. I have no objections." Ying Yaoshi reached for Ning Xuan's hand.
Ning Xuan didn't pull away, her gaze fixed on his neck.
