The once arrogantly smiling Bai Rubing, with a face full of laughter, suddenly became serious and looked at Song Qinghuan with great rigor.
Whereas Song Qinghuan remained calm, truly only feeling pity for her, which made Song Qinghuan somewhat puzzled, and it was for this reason that Bai Rubing hesitated.
But her hesitation didn't mean she completely believed Song Qinghuan's words.
However, this hesitation was enough, Song Qinghuan didn't hope for her complete trust, only for her to doubt, and then find a way to confront the old man with questions. As long as that was possible, it was already an uncertainty.
Two days had passed, and Shi Annuo and Han Qianqian had been in a small room for that time.
When they arrived, they were unconscious, and upon waking up, they had been in this room—not a basement or a storage type, but with windows and doors sealed shut, nothing outside visible, as dark as night inside, with just slivers of sunlight peeking through the cracks in the wood.
