The bright red hijab pressed heavily on the top of the head, like a burning fire, making people breathless.
Chu Yunmiao sat on the edge of the bed, unconsciously stroking the cold wine glass with her fingertips.
The amber liquid in the cup was the acacia wine that Lin Aotian, the holy son of the Qingyun Sect, personally filled for her.
Her future husband, the man who is always as gentle as jade and promises to protect her throughout her life.
The air was filled with the festive scent of ambergris, but there was an inexplicable chill in her heart.
Something is wrong.
The spiritual power in the body seemed to have been soaked in thick syrup, and it was extremely stagnant.
At first she just thought it was the nervousness of a newlywed, but now, even raising her fingers she felt a hint of weakness.
