How could it be Feng Xun?
Ye Lingyue stared dumbfounded. Wasn't Feng Xun still in Chuyun Palace?
But the man in front of her, with lips like pale cherry blossoms, black hair like silk, limbs long and elegant, who seemed noble like a prince even in his sleep—other than Feng Xun, who could it be?
Ye Lingyue carefully touched him with her hand—the skin was warm and smooth, a real person, not an illusion.
But upon closer inspection, Ye Lingyue felt something wasn't right.
The man bore an eight or nine out of ten resemblance to Feng Xun, but on closer look, they were different.
Feng Xun's lips were beautifully diamond-shaped, while the man's lips were slightly thinner.
Moreover, Feng Xun seemed frailer, while this man, despite his pale skin from having stayed in the underground palace for a long time, had distinct knife scars on his palm joints and arms, clearly someone practiced in martial arts.
