Song Xian felt as though all the blood in his body suddenly surged into his chest, the whole person pulled by an unexpected joy, a feeling he had never experienced before, leaving him in a daze.
He could hear nothing else, think of nothing, as if all his spirit was focused on one point.
Listening to her talk, watching every subtle expression of hers.
After the initial joy, he suddenly felt a little scared, scared she would explain this "difference".
After all, when one hopes too much for something, there is a risk of misunderstanding.
She might say that because she owed him, things were different, or she might say that being the main general of the Western campaign naturally made him different from others.
Thinking of this, Song Xian almost couldn't breathe; he stood there stiffly, waiting, letting time pass by little by little.
Seeing her press her lips together, not speaking further, hesitating for a moment, but keeping her eyes on his face.
She didn't explain.
