The wind came in from the uncovered window, mixed with the smell of osmanthus, the woody fragrance in the room did not seem to match the luxurious temperament of Zhuo Xi's body, and the Huanghuali table with pen, ink, paper and inkstone was placed, and the wood was sleeping, quiet as themselves.

The black hair slipped diagonally, fluttering slightly with Zhuo Xi's clothes.

Looking at the outside of the door, a figure broke through the door with a strong wind.

A piece of emerald color struck the long figure standing in front of the pen and ink, but in an instant, it hit an invisible wall, and the cloud was bounced off by the barrier set up by Zhuo Xi, and then fell to the cold ground.