It was a hairpin, a hairpin that he had specially sent to Qingyan Palace this morning. The jade crown that held her hair had lost its support, and as soon as its owner moved slightly, it stumbled and rolled pitifully to the ground.
The three thousand strands of black hair slid down smoothly, covering up all the emotions that the young man's profile could reveal. In such a critical situation, Zhao Chong was also very curious why he would be distracted and pay attention to these insignificant things, but compared to the hairpin against his chest, he really wanted to know the young man's expression at the moment.
Is it decisiveness, hesitation, or the joy of finally being able to kill the enemy?
"?
The dagger swung with such force that it almost created sparks on the shaft of the black spear. Being attacked from both sides, Zhao Chong knew that he should have knocked the young man off his horse and focused on fighting the enemy. But for some reason, he was so possessed that he couldn't bear to let the young man in white in his arms fall into such a dirty pool of blood.
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