Even you know I can't stay away from you

Hua Jing blinked.

The scent of sandalwood and something faintly familiar enveloped her senses.

Her vision blurred slightly before sharpening.

A strong, steady hand rested against the small of her back, holding her upright as if she weighed nothing. Another hand pressed against her wrist, fingers firm yet gentle, as though gauging her condition.

She tried to lift her head.

Tried to see the face of the one who had caught her.

But before she could—

"Hua Jing."

That voice.

Deep. Smooth. Commanding.

Recognition slammed into her.

No.

Not now.

Her fingers twitched against the fabric of his robe.

White.

His robes were white.

Not the dark ones he had been wearing when she last saw him.

Not the heavy ceremonial attire from the banquet.

Not the ones she had memorized.

But even if she hadn't seen his face yet, she knew.

Zhao Yan.

Her body tensed instinctively.