Yang Mengchen was just about to counterattack when a hoarse, weary voice rang out timely by her ear, "It's me!" Strong arms still held her tightly.
"Prince?"
Packing away the Black Needle in her fingertip, Yang Mengchen tried to break free from Long Xuanmo's embrace, as she was truly unaccustomed to such closeness.
Feeling Yang Mengchen's intention to struggle, Long Xuanmo's eyes darkened, his deep voice filled with loss and pleading, "Don't move, let me hold you for a while!"
Yang Mengchen was taken aback, keenly feeling Long Xuanmo's body trembling slightly, his arms' grip so tight as if he wanted to merge her into his body. A wave of indescribable emotion suddenly surged in her heart, and she stopped resisting, her eyelids drooping slightly, lost in thought.