"Hong Zhuang?" the Demon Lord frowned slightly, as if he was mildly displeased to hear talk of another woman at such a time, but perhaps sensing that Hong Zhuang posed no significant threat, he did not make much of a fuss, "She is but an insignificant Enchanting Demon assassin. If you wish to spare her life, by all means, do so."
Soft rain sprinkled over the garden's green bamboo, pattering with a low murmur, similar to moisture seeping into a palm, or small fish entering the sea, evoking a sense of vast, overflowing essence.
Baili An, absent-minded, hummed a response, his palm pressing down on moist and smooth skin covered in a film of sweat at the waist, struggling to contain the trembling, panicking movements of the woman beneath him.
His eyes shifted stiffly, looking towards the Demon Lord at the side of the couch, his voice thick with an uncontrollable tremor, "It's getting late, shouldn't Your Majesty return to your palace to sleep and rest?"
