In an instant, Lin Nianhe's hand held a pitch-black Tang sword.
She held her breath, listening intently to the sounds outside the door.
"Nianhe, it's me. What's wrong?"
A male voice.
A male voice that was gentle yet urgent.
Lin Nianhe recognized the voice but couldn't believe it.
She frowned slightly, gripping the handle of the sword more tightly. Hesitantly, she asked, "Brother Yuncheng?"
He was still in the provincial city when they spoke on the phone in the afternoon; how could he be at her door now?
The person outside quickly responded: "Yes, it's me."
Lin Nianhe couldn't understand how he had come back so suddenly, and from just his voice, she couldn't detect anything wrong.
