Ji Qingwu chose to stay.
Having agreed to Le Xi's request, she had already braced herself for what was to come.
Ji Qingwu met the gaze of the man on the throne and strode forward, her presence commanding.
Her eyes held no shyness; instead, they shone with the heroic spirit of one making a noble sacrifice for her country.
Zhao Mingyan's brow arched, and he parted his lips to speak.
But a fair, delicate hand suddenly slammed down on the grand desk before him. The sound wasn't loud, but the force was considerable, sending a spray of tea splashing from the spout of a nearby teapot.
Droplets of water stained the polished surface of the desk.
It also made the Emperor swallow the words he was about to say.
Ji Qingwu's emotions were in turmoil, and she hadn't held back her strength. She had only meant to tap the desk lightly to build her courage. Leaning on her hands, she bent down, her clear, watery eyes staring straight at him.
