Upon closer inspection, he realized it was not a knife.
It was an umbrella.
A red round paper umbrella.
Painted on it were blossoming peonies, enchantingly beautiful.
Ye Biao's complexion instantly turned pale, his veins throbbing.
"You're not Su Yan."
The person across from him, who looked exactly like Su Yan, suddenly laughed.
"You really are vigilant, aren't you?"
With the red round paper umbrella in hand, they could transform into an exact likeness of Su Yan.
If Su Yan were here, she would definitely know.
This person was Sang Luo.
Sang Luo was brazenly assuming Su Yan's appearance.
It was curious.
"Did you recognize that I wasn't Su Yan a long time ago?"
Ye Biao clutching his abdomen, head drooping low, did not speak.
The blood flowed more and more.
He knew that his life was slipping away.
He was going to die; was there something he still wanted to do?
Yes.
He wanted to see her.
To see Su Yan.
It had only been two hours since they had parted.
