Wei Ling's gaze lingered on Hua Jing, his brow creased with unease. He had seen her fight before, had watched the way she moved like a blade in the darkness, but tonight was different. Tonight, it was not palace intrigues or petty vendettas. Tonight was war—a war that could take everything from them.
"Hua Jing," he said softly, his voice edged with hesitation. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"
He tried to mask his worry, but it was there in the tight line of his shoulders, in the faint crease at the corner of his eyes. She could see it as plainly as she saw the gleam of steel in the torchlight. She knew what weighed on him: she was a woman, the prince's woman, and if anything happened to her tonight… how would he ever face Zhao Yan again?
For a moment, the question hung between them like the cold air. Hua Jing met his gaze steadily, her lips curving in a faint, resolute smile. "I am ready," she said simply.
