Si Mingjing stopping? Yeah, right.
She just wished her strides were longer, her running faster.
Mo Yinhe's expression tightened; he lifted his foot and was about to follow.
Just then, a few cars slowly drove in from outside the courtyard, blocking Mo Yinhe's way.
Inside one of the cars sat a young man exuding aristocratic grace, poised and elegant all over, about twenty-six or seven years old. Spotting Mo Yinhe, he rolled down his window: "Crown Prince, I guessed you hadn't left yet, so I took a detour to catch up…"
The man's sentence was halfway out when it abruptly cut off; he focused, sniffed the air, and suddenly his spirit jolted, his eyes sharp and deep: "What's that smell?"
The air was saturated with an intense perfume, but the man could still vaguely pick out a familiar scent beneath it.
"Nothing." Mo Yinhe stopped mid-step.
