Before anyone realized, Zhao Jian's hand had grabbed Xia Zihe's left arm. In such desperation, how could he care about the force he was using? Instantly he pulled out Xia Zihe's left hand, which was hidden in her sleeve, only to find it to be as cold as a thin bamboo stick instead of the smooth and soft skin he had imagined. On closer inspection, he was holding not flesh, but bare, white bones. Zhao Jian was horrified by his own actions and cried out in shock.
At this moment, Xia Zihe, who was lying on her back, had her veil rise without any breeze, revealing her skeletal face to Zhao Jian. After crying out, Zhao Jian saw it and immediately released her hand, retreating several steps with a great effort.
After retreating, Zhao Jian realized his mistake, and was about to step forward, only to hear Xia Zihe's cold laughter. "Junior Brother Zhao, will you still be able to sleep next to me at night, knowing my hands are as cold and capable of strangling your neck?"
