“Here, this is my dragon scale. If anything happens, you can use it to contact me. And with this on you, all dragons will know you’re an ally of our race and will offer you help.”
Princess Qingrui placed one of her own scales into Wen Jiayin’s hand. In doing so, she accidentally brushed against the soft center of Wen Jiayin’s palm.
Wen Jiayin’s hands didn’t look like a sword cultivator’s at all. They were small, plump, and soft. Back then, just because of these hands, Huan Mu had told Xinyun more than once that this kid was born...
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