A Thousand Requests?! I'll Do Anything!

A few unruly strands of Meng Hongchen's hair had slipped free from her headband and clung to her fair neck, gleaming softly in the morning light.

Her face was very pale—not the healthy kind of fairness, but an almost translucent pallor. Her lips were bloodless as well, holding only the faintest pink, like faded flower petals. Her eyelids were slightly swollen, and the rims of her eyes were tinged red. She had clearly cried earlier.

Meng Hongchen stood at the doorway, her hands hanging at her sides, her fingers slightly curled as though clutching something invisible. The neckline of her plain white dress was not cut low, exposing a small stretch of delicate collarbone that appeared especially distinct beneath the morning light.

She raised her head, her icy blue eyes fixed on Lin Ciyan.

Those eyes were beautiful, like two ice-blue gemstones set into her pale face.

A thin sheen of moisture still pooled in her eyes, and her lashes were damp, as though she had only just wiped away her tears. Yet now, besides sorrow and worry, those eyes held another emotion that was difficult to name...

It was the unique shyness of a young girl facing the one she liked—the flustered uncertainty of having countless things she wanted to say but not knowing where to begin, the hesitation of wanting to draw near yet not daring to.

Throughout the tournament, Meng Hongchen had watched this man stand on the competition stage time and again.

Lin Ciyan's lazy posture with both hands in his pockets, the calm curve of his lips, the overwhelming strength with which he crushed his opponents as if it were nothing, the earth-shaking might he displayed when he unleashed the Holy Radiance Qilin...

Every scene had been deeply etched into Meng Hongchen's mind.

Meng Hongchen