Just as the tip of the knife was about to pierce Zhao Dong, Han Chuxue stopped.
Her voice trembled, and so did her hands. "Why didn't you dodge?"
Zhao Dong said gravely, "If you think killing me is the only way to appease your hatred, then do it. This is my fault."
The fruit knife in Han Chuxue's hand clattered to the floor. She covered her face as tears streamed through her fingers, and she began to sob uncontrollably.
Zhao Dong sighed, gently patted her beautiful shoulder, and draped his clothes over her.
"If you run into any trouble in the future, or if your Han Family needs anything, just tell me. I will help."
"I never want to see you again! I hate you!"
Han Chuxue dressed, cast Zhao Dong a deeply resentful glance, and then turned and slammed the door behind her.
After she left, Zhao Dong sighed and called Xu Yafei.
On the other end, Xu Yafei's voice was as indifferent as ever. "You're awake?"
Zhao Dong replied bitterly, "Did you bring me here?"
"Yes. What about it?"
