The air stagnated, and amidst the bleak cold wind, silence enveloped the surroundings.
Wei Anning raised her head to look at the distinguished and aloof man in front of her, her gaze unflinching and unwavering. If she could make him stay away from her, if she could protect him, then even if she had to be lonely for a lifetime, so be it.
The large hand gripping her wrist was as scorching as a cigarette butt.
Slowly, the force tightened, and she felt as if her hand bones were about to be broken by him. Then the force relaxed, the big hand moved away, and her hand dropped to her side, swiftly eroded by the cold wind, leaving only coldness.
She said nothing, lifted her skirt, and left.
Leng Youchen's brows and eyes were cold, staring at her gradually retreating figure. He had experienced her callousness time and again, yet why did his heart still get ensnared by her every move?
Leng Youchen, when did you become so pathetic?
