She met Shen Yuan's gaze, which held the tension of a man awaiting judgment. There was no anger, no reprimand—only a clear calm and openness. Within it, perhaps, lay a trace of warmth even she hadn't noticed.
"Shen Yuan…"
"Hm?" Shen Yuan replied, his eyes fixed on Li Zhi.
"What's between us doesn't need any blessings from a Bodhisattva."
The sentence was like a silent clap of thunder, detonating in Shen Yuan's mind with devastating precision.
It was as if his spine had been ripped out, or as if an invisible sledgehammer had slammed him into the ground.
The expression on Shen Yuan's face, once a taut mask of apprehension as he awaited his sentence, instantly fractured into a look of pure, unfilterable shock.
His eyes, which had been filled with a mix of anxiety and hope, were now wide saucers, the depths of his pupils churning with a silent tsunami.
