Ling Zeqing stood outside the garden, his knuckles turning slightly white while holding the red plum bone umbrella.
Yangchuan was counting the falling snowflakes with his forehead bored. The pavilion with ventilation on all sides was a good place to enjoy the scenery. Everything he saw was covered in white. Only a plum blossom not far away added some vitality to this dead white.
The thick snow was stepped on step by step, making a slight sound. Yangchuan's eyes narrowed slightly as he stared at the plum tree, but he laughed at himself in his heart.
Anyway, at this time, does he still hold on to those ant-like hopes and think that Brother Huang will allow others to visit him?
However, the next moment, someone covered in wind and snow blocked his view. The man in white clothes stared condescendingly into his dull eyes, but his beautiful eyes were full of smiles and longing for the long-lost sight.
Yangchuan's eyelids trembled slightly, and the color of his eyes gradually darkened, and the hottest longings filling his heart turned into a halo in his eyes. The Thirteenth Prince of Kyoto seemed to be unusually fragile at this moment.
Ling Zeqing took off his cloak and sat on his right side with a soft face and a clear voice. Yangchuan's heart, which had been unable to find its home for a long time, suddenly calmed down.
"Little Overlord, wait for me."