Ran Qingchen slowly opened her eyes and found herself being carried on the back of Yelü Miaomiao. The view that greeted her eyes was the desolate and plaintive light of the dawn, spread across the dark canopy of the sky.
Each thread of light seemed like the lingering shadow of times passed, fragmented yet tender.
"Put me down," Ran Qingchen's voice was hoarse.
"My heavens, you're finally awake."
Yelü Miaomiao found a clean spot and carefully set the woman down, intending to complain a little, but looking at the other's haggard, pale face, she ended up asking with concern, "You're not hurt, are you?"
After speaking, the girl lightly slapped her own mouth.
How could she be okay after killing her own master?
Yelü Miaomiao coughed dryly and comforted her, "If you hadn't acted, your master would have suffered torment until death. You were helping her find release. She's probably thanking you in her heart."
