Yan Jinghuai was wearing a black suit today, with a shirt of the same color underneath. The top button was undone, revealing a small patch of skin that was exceptionally fair, almost the only bright color in the mourning hall.

He had just washed his hair in the morning and it wasn't dry yet. A few strands of hair stuck to his face, adding a touch of ambiguous beauty to him.

Wen Qingyin looked him up and down, then patted his shoulder heavily, "I'll rely on you to dominate ...