"If he is An Donghua, what are you going to do?"
Her heart seemed to constrict, and Zhan Se lowered her eyelids, "Nothing special."
He lifted her chin abruptly, as Emperor Quan stared at her, his other hand tightening around her waist, his face wore a smile yet not a smile, and he asked with a lowered voice, "Zhan Xiaoyao, sometimes I think that my appearance six years ago may have destroyed your love for him. He must be very important in your heart, right?"
Her body fell into his embrace, tightly gripped by him, causing Zhan Se to frown in pain.
"How can you make such assumptions about this matter?"
A certain discomfort arose in his heart, and a hint of jealousy quickly wafted to his brain. Emperor Quan's hand exerted more force, hugging her even tighter, so tight that she was almost entirely pressed against his chest. And his voice sounded as if it had been soaked in vinegar, unbearably sour.
"Why can't I assume that the tomb in your heart isn't burying him?"
