"Darling..." Mu Anhan called out to him, timidly.
A manic man is terrifying, but a silent man is even more so.
Gu Xiaozhan was worried that his mania was becoming increasingly severe, reaching a level beyond his control.
This fear spread from his brain down to his heart.
He always thought he could control it, but never realized that mania was like a young sprout, needing only a schemer to pour a drop of water on it, or someone calculating to give it a bit of light, and it would grow wildly.
He looked at her, just inches away; she hadn't retreated, still leaning on him so closely, her eyes filled with warmth and worry.
She was still in his arms, warm and soft, like a little sun illuminating him as he stood in darkness.
Mu Anhan didn't know which words had touched this man's nerves; she felt somewhat flustered and anxious, wanting to embrace him. In her rush, she knocked over her bag, spilling something onto the carpet.
