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Zhan Beiye clearly knew that Meng Fuyao was headstrong, proud, and disliked being forced by others. He had also been trying very hard to change his habit of protecting women and tried to give her as much freedom as possible, and he didn't want her to keep avoiding his love because she felt stifled. Yet, this clearly smart woman was beyond clueless when it came to affairs of the heart. Her ability to rile his anger was even more powerful than his combat skills, and he had been burnt a thousand times, as he had been once again, utterly defeated.

'Fuyao… Who could ever cross the river to your heart and not have to stand on the other side with yearning?'

Zhan Beiye's black robes fluttered silently around him as he stood on the road. He stood before the palace gates, ignoring the soldiers and people scattered in the street. His back was upright and straight, yet it looked as if it were burdened with something.