In a daze, Wen Xinya thought she heard Xu Zhenyu's voice. That voice seemed to come from the otherworld, knocking heavily at the room of her heart. "Xu Zhenyu… is that you? Have you come to save me?"
Her weak voice, intermittently filled with tremors, was as though she was in a world of ice and snow, the chill coming from her bones.
Si Yiyan's long and narrow eyes were increasingly filled with coldness. He bent slightly, leaned close to her ear, and whispered in a low voice, "It's me, Si Yiyan, have you forgotten?"
"Xu Zhenyu… I'm cold!" Wen Xinya's consciousness was similar to rootless duckweed like the seeds of the willow drifting in the wind, unable to find any focus. In her mind, there was only Xu Zhenyu's voice, freshly penetrating her life.
Si Yiyan's expression grew darker. She was at her most painful stage, but the one she thought of was Xu Zhenyu, not him. This realization made him feel uselessly angered.
