There was no warmth in Yunwushu's eyes, only a cold, inorganic indifference.
The look was so fast that it seemed like an illusion, but the moment it met the servant's eyes, the other party felt like being struck by lightning. His face turned pale, as if he was stared at by an invisible beast, and his blood froze.
The servant drew his head back in horror, and dared not peek again.
Chrisel was unaware of anything. All his attention was on the thin and hot body in his arms. He supported him carefully and whispered to him, "Hold on, we'll be back soon." He supported Yunwushu and slowly turned around, preparing to leave the observation cabin.
Just as he turned his back to the dance floor downstairs, Yunwushu leaned on Chrisel's shoulder, his head slightly tilted, but his eyes accurately passed over Chrisel's shoulder and once again looked at the center of the dazzling dance floor below.
Princess Lillian was being invited to dance by another noble, smiling sweetly.
Yun Wushu's eyes locked on her coldly, and the corners of his mouth curled up slightly, almost cruelly.
It wasn't a smile, but more like a declaration, a silent, bloody warning.
His pale lips opened and closed silently, and he spoke a few words clearly to the unconscious figure in the red dress downstairs, but no sound came out:
"Stay away from him."
The next second, he seemed to have exhausted all his strength and buried his face completely in Chrisel's neck.
Chrisel placed the Cloud Book in the most comfortable back seat of the hovercar, carefully adjusted the angle of the pillow, and wrapped him tightly with a soft blanket, leaving only a pale, almost transparent face exposed.
The hovercraft started smoothly and drove away from the noisy courtyard, leaving behind the artificial sea of stars and the harsh music.
The light inside the car was dim, with only the dashboard emitting a faint blue light.
Yun Wushu closed his eyes and seemed to have fallen into a coma, his breathing weak and even.
Chrisel sat next to him, her eyes never leaving his face, her brow furrowed, self-blame and worry entwined around his heart like vines.
I gently held Yunwushu's cold hand outside the blanket, trying to convey some warmth.
However, under the cover of the blanket, Yunwushu's fingers moved almost imperceptibly.
The warmth of Chrisel's palm and the familiar, soothing scent of cedar wood were like sparks splashing on the fuse he had carefully laid.
He became more and more greedy, greedy for this temperature so much that he just wanted to possess it...
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