As she retreated, he pursued, and after this little exchange, Feng Zhiwei felt sudden coldness on her face.
She lifted her hand to touch that spot of coldness, and when her finger came away it was covered in blood. In this absent-minded moment, Feng Zhiwei thought back to that day in that small yard when a drop of his blood had fallen between her eyes, and while she was distracted he heard his quiet voice: "That day my blood also fell on your face — were you happy? Were you proud?"
The gentle tone hid a flavor of biting and gnashing of teeth. Feng Zhiwei looked up in shock, utterly confused, but in front of this man's dark eyes, heavy as gloomy clouds, she could not speak.
After a moment, she could only embarrassedly reply: "These words that you speak…"
She spoke utterly sincerely, but he could only see her actions as a mechanical deceit — his long eyebrows twitched as a nameless anger swelled in Ning Yi's breasts, and suddenly his hand pounced.
