"Let her in."
Within the time it took for an incense stick to burn, Xie Zhixing couldn't focus on any of the memorials.
Since Yun Jiao chose to turn back time, she chose to save him.
As expected, it didn't surprise him.
A secretive smile played on Xie Zhixing's thin lips, and he couldn't help but imagine how she would subtly help him avoid calamity, or if she had cried for him upon learning of his passing. His current mood was like a reader of a "wife chasing crematorium" novel, eager to open the eyes of heaven and see how regretful and longing she was after losing the protagonist.
Thinking of this, Xie Zhixing even thought he might as well die more miserably, die in front of her, to make her feel more heartbroken for him.
Why do novels that torment the heroine's body and the hero's heart sell so well?
Because these delusional thoughts never cease.
"My lady, slow down, you must not run here, it is unbecoming before the imperial court..."
"The emperor won't blame me!"
