The evil prince, the best concubine

22 Who is it 3
After all, she was also partly responsible for Li Muhan's injury.

If I hadn't pretended to be Xia Chudie and let him know the reason of the matter earlier, perhaps the Shang Shufu would not have been insulted.

And Li Muhan will not become a clown from a groom in an instant.

Crouching down and clutching her chest, she felt very uncomfortable at this moment.

It's her, it's her, all of this is because of her.

She is the culprit, and she is the one who should be hurt.

But why?
Why did she come here, why did all this seem to have nothing to do with her, but it was caused by her.

Helpless, uncomfortable, and guilt enveloped her, impenetrable.

The cold moonlight refracted into the room through the window lattice.

Shining on the delicate figure.

It adds a hazy feeling to the cold night.

Looking at the paper in his hand.

Jian Luo clenched and clenched, tight and tight.

The originally flat letter became crumpled paper in her hands.

Now she just wants to escape, escape
I don't know when, the sound of flute faintly came from outside the courtyard, like a small river flowing, cool, beautiful, with a little bit of bleakness.

Jian Luo stood up upon hearing the sound, and walked towards the door.

There is a long-standing peach tree in the huge courtyard.

Under the peach blossom tree, dressed in white, with three thousand black hair.

The soft light like water reflected on the body of the man in white.

Leaning under the peach blossom tree, the man in white turned his back to her, unable to see clearly.

The sound of flute slowly rippling from his lips, flowing into her heart like flowing water from a high mountain, like a small river.

Moon, hazy and shy.

The sound of flute is beautiful but pleasant.

Jian Luo stood quietly in front of the door, looking at the outstanding figure under the peach blossom tree.

She didn't speak, he didn't speak.

One looks into the distance, the other turns away.

Taking advantage of the coldness of the moonlight, the sound of the flute slowly lingered over the other courtyard.

Quiet, like water.

Beauty is like smoke.

For a long time, so long that Jian Luo forgot the sadness in her heart, and so long that she ignored the loneliness in her heart.

The sound of the flute stopped abruptly, and the man in white slowly turned around.

Jian Luo closed her eyes, still immersed in the soothing sound of flute.

The bright moonlight perfectly reflected the face of the man in white under the peach blossom tree.

A firm face, eyebrows like swords, eyes as deep as the sea, a raised nose, and thin red lips.

This is Jun Moran, the Seventh Prince of Chu Yun Kingdom.

"You are not Xia Chudie."

Faint moonlight poured down, and faint words spit out.

But it's not hard to hear the affirmation in the words.

(End of this chapter)