The girl's face was pale, blood staining the corners of her mouth. The wounds on her arms and chest were still bleeding, and her lively eyes were filled with lingering terror, like a startled fawn.
Ye Xuan reached out, his fingertips carrying a trace of warmth as he gently pinched her cheek.
The familiar touch made Meng Yiran's entire body stiffen. This touch, this pressure—it was so much like the intimate gesture Xuan Ye used to make when he was alive!
"Xuan... Xuan Ye?" she murmured instinctively, wild joy surging through her heart as tears instantly blurred her vision.
She raised her head, wanting to see the face of the person before her clearly, wanting to confirm whether the man she had longed for day and night was truly standing before her.
Yet when she saw that face clearly, all her joy froze instantly. It was as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over her head, chilling her from head to toe.
The person before her was not Xuan Ye at all.
It was Ye Xuan, Spirit Hall's Holy Son!
That fiend rumored to kill without blinking, ruthless and cruel—the man from the faction that had... indirectly caused Xuan Ye's death.
Meng Yiran's pupils suddenly constricted. The ecstasy in her eyes was instantly replaced by shock, confusion, fear, and an indescribably complicated emotion.
Her body began to tremble, not out of fear, but because this sudden reversal had left her mind completely blank.
How could it be him?
Why had he saved her?
Could the news about Xuan Ye have been deliberately released by him?
Countless questions exploded in her mind, leaving her at a loss. She could only stare blankly at Ye Xuan, forgetting the pain of her wounds and the danger she was in.
Ye