Midnight...
From the shade of a spirit-barked tree, a white fur beast curled on her side. The long, graceful tail flicked lazily, ears perked—but she didn't move.
Her gaze was fixed ahead.
On him.
____
Su Xiaobai.
The man who, six months ago, was little more than a cocky brat with decent looks and unreasonable confidence.
Now?
She narrowed her feline eyes, pupils like slivers of winter light.
He stood by the riverbank, chest bare beneath his open outer robe, the loose fabric fluttering in the night breeze. His lean body was carved not with bulk, but that dangerous sharpness—like a blade honed by too many battles, too many women, and far too much plot armor.
His long white hair shimmered like moonlight, tied loosely at the back. Stray strands danced over his sharp jaw and unbothered expression. His eyes—normally half-lidded in smug drowsiness—were now narrow, glowing faintly with sword intent, as if reflecting every star above.
