Ye Wuming showed no reaction to such a direct declaration. Not even a ripple of emotion passed through her heart.0

She had gotten used to the teasing over the past two days, whether it be in words or in actions.0

Ever since his innermost desires had been laid bare before Papiyas, Zhao Changhe had stopped bothering with any pretense. His desires were already exposed, after all; there was no point in hiding them. Trying to conceal them any further would only invite mockery.0

Yet even if the words struck no chord on the surface, they held a strange resonance deep within.0

Just moments ago, she had been pondering whether he was trying to control her. Now, he had slapped that thought aside by saying that she mattered more to him than the mountains and rivers, and somehow, it landed. She did not know whether she ought to curse him for being a brainless horndog or secretly revel in the sentiment.1

A thousand emotions surged and scattered, finally condensing into a long, wistful sigh within the Night Palace.0

Ye Wuming rose and turned, stepping into the lotus pool.0

Her bare feet brushed the water’s surface, rippling it gently. 0

Somewhere in the mortal realm, a person gazing at the moon saw the night sky shift.0

For when the Heavenly Emperor walked, her steps shaped the very heavens. If she willed a storm, then thunder would roar and rain would fall.0

And so, when she caught sight of Zhao Changhe lying beside the pregnant Xia Chichi in their dragon bed, thunder truly roared and rain began to pour.0

A pair of drunken scholars had been drinking beneath the moon when the sudden downpour caught them by surprise. They fled indoors, drenched and sputtering only to look out moments later and find the sky perfectly clear. They hesitantly stepped back outside, only to be hit by a sudden blast of wind so fierce it made it hard to open their eyes.0

“Did Father Heaven fall ill tonight?!”0

“How do you know that the heavens is male and not some menopausal old ...0