Little Yan Ji

Xun Er heard Xiao Ling's resounding words, and it felt as though her heart had been soaked in warm water, melting into utter softness.

The resilience she had used to force herself through the clan's turmoil now turned entirely into gentle ripples in her eyes. Looking into Xiao Ling's deep gaze, she saw the resolve and tenderness within it, and her nose tingled faintly. Even the way she looked at him became wrapped in an inextricable affection, as if she wished to pour all the longing and expectations of these past years into that single glance.

Xiao Ling unconsciously tightened his hold on her hand. The warmth of his palm seeped through her slightly cool jade-like hand and into his heart. His fingertips lightly stroked the delicate skin on the back of her hand, as though confirming that this peace was not an illusion.

Their eyes met, and even the scent of bamboo and the sound of wind around them seemed to fall silent. Only their reflections in each other's eyes grew ever clearer. Xiao Ling leaned forward slightly, his thumb unconsciously brushing her knuckles. His throat moved as though he had a thousand words to say, yet the tenderness filling the room choked them all back.

He only felt that, in the next moment, he ought to pull her into his arms and make up for all the years of regret with an embrace.

The warmth in the air nearly overflowed from the bamboo room. Even the curtains swayed more slowly, as if leaving this pair of lovers a moment to themselves.

Watching from the side, Elder Ling held his teacup suspended in midair. A smile lingered on his lips, but he felt that he was truly superfluous standing here. Thus, he deliberately cleared his throat. That soft cough