"Young Master, we have been discovered," Huai Qing put down the eavesdropping equipment, sighing.
Bo Yuxun stood at the window, looking at the bright moon at the horizon through the carved window, his tall and straight figure like a pine tree, his handsome face exuding a jade-like luster.
The man just smiled faintly upon hearing the words, his slender fingers tapping on the windowsill, like a butterfly settling on a flower branch.
Huai Qing stared at the man's fingertips.
She had never seen more beautiful hands than the young master's, more heroic than a woman's, yet more delicate than a man's rough hands; his fingers were like scallions, fair and slender, like a piece of jade carefully carved, perfect from every angle.
These were a pair of hands as beautiful as a work of art, and also a pair of hands that saved lives and healed wounds.
And now, these hands would pick up a sword for their beloved and hold it high against the enemy.