The wedding was held without a hitch, the crowd cheered, livening up the atmosphere, but his heart was bleak. Walking through the aisle, he could see the Emperor, standing tall on the altar, majestic, cold, indifferent— emotionless. Nixia held the skirt of wedding dress his sister supposed to wear, his smile is more miserable than crying. Even as he arrives at the altar, the Emperor didn't even offer his hand, just looking at him coldly. Your Majesty he nervously call the Emperor.
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