Song Cheng finally saw Ting's face.
The youthful face from his memory had aged, with sunken eyes, pale skin, and a thin figure, the chill that not even the warmth of the room could conceal caused Song Cheng unspeakable heartache.
He knew, Ting was an aberration that should not have existed.
To be a person, yet not a human.
To be a Zhan, yet not qualified.
The strength of her youth had turned into a torment worse than death as she aged, so much so that she could neither prolong her life nor live without constant struggle.
Ting was crying.
Song Cheng cupped her face, wiped her tears away, and said, "Trust in father."
"Yes," the Elder Princess gently responded.
Song Cheng then helped her lie down on the couch, and as it was winter, he at least wanted to wait until the next end of spring before departing.
At dusk with snow falling, the setting sun had not yet faded completely, Song Cheng sat inside the Elder Princess's palace.