It was now another lifetime and she was sitting across from him. Whether for herself or for him, because of the promise she had made the day he saved her from the prince’s estate, she would not let him die. No, she wouldn’t allow it!
While Chen Rong was preoccupied, her hand grew warm by a wine cup Wang Hong had placed into her palm.
His hand did not move away; its slender fingers wound around her middle finger and gently stroking it. He lowered his gaze, shadowing his eyes with fluttering long lashes. He continued caressing her finger as he whispered to her: “Why have you come?” His voice was very soft and airy, like a night breeze passing by.
Chen Rong pressed her lips together, not knowing how to answer him.
He looked up and beheld her face, waiting for an answer.
After a long time, Chen Rong swallowed and hoarsely replied, “Without you there, I was afraid the Prince of Nan’yang would harass me.” There was a dozen answers rushing from her mind, but she herself hadn’t thought through them, and in the end, she gave him the most indifferent and unpleasant reason of them all.
Wang Hong lightly chuckled and, ever so softly, stroked her finger. “You’d rather come here to rid yourself of the Nan’yang Prince, even though you’ll end up dead?”
His caressing gave her fingertips a tremble that coursed all the way to her heart.
Chen Rong bit her lip and suppressed the strange feeling gushing from deep inside. “We don’t have to end up dead!” She quietly lifted her eyes to look at him.
Wang Hong’s handsome and lofty face remained as it was. He did not seem to hear the certainty in Chen Rong’s voice. He just smiled. Slowly, he let go of her hand and stood up.
As he rose, Chen Rong found that the man in front of her had suddenly become distant and foggy. It was only moments ago that he had made her feel as though they were very close. But in just a blink of an eye, Chen Rong discovered with fright that he was still the cloud in the sky and she was still that piece of drifting leaf!
Wang Hong stood tall and looked down at Chen Rong, his smiling face both tranquil and distant: “You must be tired from the long trip, Ah Rong. Get some rest.” When he finished, he waved his wide sleeves, turned and went away.
Chen Rong sat in place for a long, long time to watch him drift farther away until he gradually disappeared in the sunlight. Facing the empty study, she answered, “Aye.” Even now, her legs were soft and her heart was beating erratically from seeing him again. She needed some quiet and peace to herself.
Half an hour later, Chen Rong left the study.
At this time, the Hu’s shouts and horses’ neighs beyond the city walls were mixed with the clamoring from inside, growing into a riotous din.
In addition to several frenzied maids in the courtyard, only Old Shang was around.
Chen Rong beckoned a maidservant over. “Bring me a set of your master’s clothes.”
The maid wasn’t in the frame of mind to ask her why; she bowed her head and ran to the bedchamber.
Soon, a light blue robe and a white robe were presented to Chen Rong. “These are both Qilang’s old clothes. Which one would you like, miss?”
“The blue one.”
Ever since she was a young girl, Chen Rong had never liked to wear white clothes. Firstly, she couldn’t wear something so pure and clean, and secondly, they were in the commoner’s style that she didn’t like.
After taking the outfit, Chen Rong said to the maid when she saw her turning to leave: “Help me with my hair.” When she finished, she sat down in front of the mirror.