The man's narrow eyes were blood-red and bloodthirsty, his handsome profile tense as a line, sharp and cold, as if he had fallen into a frenzy.
Ming Yao had seen him have an episode before, with this same expression.
The entire person out of control, he had—
That kind of experience, she didn't want to go through it again.
She placed her hands on his chest, trying to push him away, but he was immovable like a mountain.
Through the fabric of his clothes, she could feel his muscles tense up, hard and stony.
Ming Yao didn't say anything more, nor did she continue to resist.
She stood like a stone sculpture, letting him kiss her.
Until, he tasted a salty bitterness.
His whole being was as if doused with a bucket of cold water from above, violently coming to his senses.
He took two steps back, his dark eyes menacingly fixed on her.
She was crying.
She had always been strong and independent, seldom shedding tears.
