Outside Qingjing Tower.
Yu Xiaozi, clad in a cyan robe, stood outside the tower. The cold wind blew, making his robe flutter noisily, accentuating his gaunt and skeletal frame.
Feng Qing came out of the tower, holding a long sword in her hand.
"Yu Xiaozi, you dare come!"
Feng Qing raised her hand, the tip of the sword pressed against Yu Xiaozi's throat, just a slight push forward and Yu Xiaozi's life would be over.
Yet Yu Xiaozi stood there without moving.
"Are you here to seek death?"
Yu Xiaozi sighed and said, "Qing'er, do our years of entanglement really need to end in death or unrest?"
This one word, "Qing'er," evoked countless memories for the two—memories so distant and old. Feng Qing originally thought she would never hear this man call her that again in this life. This sudden "Qing'er" completely shattered Feng Qing's icy heart. Her arm trembled, and the sword clattered to the ground.
