Mo Zili spoke with a casual ease, entirely different from the frantic state he was in two months before, causing Mo Qingshan to worry whether he had been driven to madness. He carefully sat with him for a long while, offering many comforting words. Seeing that his tone was no different from usual and his expression was one of undisturbed calm, Mo Qingshan could see nothing amiss and finally left, half in doubt.
After his father left, Mo Zili's expression gradually turned cold. He slowly lifted his hands from within his sleeves—with fingers slightly twisted from clenching, and his palms punctured by his nails, oozing bright red blood from the deep wounds.
She had made her choice so quickly, without a moment's hesitation. Although it was within his expectations, the very thought of her marrying someone else, belonging to someone else, filled him with a bone- gnawing pain, a pain so intense he wished he could destroy the world...
