Amid the moving clops of the carriages and at a rustle, her curtain lifted. Under the starlight, Wang Hong’s handsome, lofty, and enigmatic face appeared to her.
He was watching her fixedly and Chen Rong had to tilt her head away to avoid his scorching gaze.
“Is the Nan’yang Prince so insufferable?” he asked.
In the dark, Chen Rong faintly nodded. “Such a man is naturally insufferable.”
“You aren’t afraid of dying?”
Chen Rong lowered her eyes. “I am, but there are things that are worse than death.”
Wang Hong studied her. At long last, he softened his voice to say: “It’s fortunate that I’ve come in time,” and drew the curtain down.
With the dropped curtain, Chen Rong turned her head to look at the tall shadow under the faint starlight.