The entire building fell silent.
No one spoke.
Even Ye Hongxiu fell silent. She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but in the end, no words came out.
She merely looked at Murong Shuang, at those eyes washed clean by tears, and suddenly felt that whether her cup of Soul-Entering Drop won or lost no longer mattered.
Li Xiangxiang also remained silent.
She reached out and gently placed her hand over the back of Murong Shuang's hand, offering no words of comfort... at a moment like this, anything said would have been superfluous.
Bao Xiaoqin downstairs, however, held that cup of Soul-Entering Drop, looked at Murong Shuang, then at the wine, and suddenly hesitated.
She muttered quietly, "This wine... should I drink it or not?"
Tang Feng covered his face, wishing he could just clamp a hand over her mouth.
Meanwhile, in the void, Wang Xian finally picked up the two cups of wine before him.
Yet he did not drink.
He merely brought the cups to his nose and gave them a gentle sniff, then smiled faintly.
This was a spirit wine steeped in amber hues, its liquid glimmering with faint starlight. Though snowflakes fluttered before him, it was as if he held a cup of sunlit golden mountains.
It was only a cup of spirit wine, yet beneath the scrutiny of his divine sense, it resembled a river of stars, giving him an illusion of familiarity.
He frowned slightly. So this was the legendary... Sunset Red Dust.
Murong Shuang let out a soft sigh, like a cold wind brushing across a high platform.
She did not look at the pairs of eyes beneath the platform—some expectant, some fervent, some infatuated—nor did she look at the finely dressed dignitaries whispering among themselves on the stairs.
She only